


Until Forever

by Akayla



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 'cause I love bad language, Addiction, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bilingual Lance (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Canon Universe, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Depression, Drug Use, Friendship, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, I like to project, I'm so sorry, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Langst, Latino Lance (Voltron), M/M, Mental Health Issues, Self-Harm, Struggle, bad language, but probably not full on smut, klance, m/m - Freeform, may have some sexy scenes, maybe klance, mental health, trigger warnings all around
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2018-12-13 05:05:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 50,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11752632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akayla/pseuds/Akayla
Summary: He left. He thought he could leave it behind, he didn't think it would follow him back home...And he definitely didn't expect it to PHYSICALLY follow him back.And now, they need him back, back in that damn war, back on that damn ship, that ship that had rejected him, back with that team that forgot he existed-But for the life of him, he can't shake them off his tail, and it's only a matter of time before they find out that maybe he has more things to fight than just an empire of power-hungry aliens.But...Who knows?Maybe Lance can win more than just one war.Aka- Lance leaves Voltron, only to be called back to the front-lines, with more problems than just crippling insecurity.(Gimmea break, aight? This is a hard story to write a summary for, lol. Just... just read the tags.)





	1. Hasta Siempre

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah, lotta triggers... hell, a lot of these triggers trigger ME, but hey, face your demons, right?  
> Anyways, the triggers are pretty much all mentioned in the tags, and if there are new ones, I'll update the tags and post a warning on the chapter.  
> My first VLD fanfiction, and my first AO3 fic, but not my first fanfiction, don't worry, not a newbie on tackling heavy shit...  
> Hopefully this won't suck too bad.  
> Anyway.  
> I put the pairing as Keith/Lance, because if there is going to be romance (there probably will be) it's gonna be Klance, because... because.  
> I love Lance. But he's just... such an easy target for vent writing, sorry... I tell it how it is. *Shrugs*  
> Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I'm gonna enjoy writing it.  
> Let's get this shitshow on the road then, shall we?

_"Hey, Coran... what are Earth's coordinates?"_

_"Well, now, that question is more complex than simply a set of coordinates-"_

 

_"As seen from the center of the Milky Way galaxy... does that help at all?"_

 

_"Ah. Well, we can merely enter in the information we need into the coordinate tracker, and.... ah, there we are! Latitude +0° 2′ 46.2″, longitude 179° 56′ 39.4″."_

 

_"....Sweet. Thanks, Coran."_

 

_"Any time, my boy... I do have to ask, though, it's quite a strange question. Any particular reason you asked?"_

 

_"Ah, think of it as just helping my homesickness."_

 

_"Oh. Well, I can see where knowing where home was-well, is, in your case-would help, yes."_

 

* * *

  
The long, slender fingers brushed the console of the escape pod, leaving trails through the thin layer of dust that had collected on the metal surface. The owner of said fingers smiled, one corner of his lips curving upwards in an expression that was more bittersweet that anything.

  
"...I think... it may be time to put you to use, girl." He murmured to the ship, even if it wasn't sentient, like the other two ships he had flown.

  
That was before, though... this was now.

  
His footsteps echoed in the hangar, the only sound in the enormous ship, save for the quiet hum of machinery and the occasional clicking or beeping from a camera placed here, or a computer that someone forgot to power down when they stopped using it.

  
The escape pod's door slid shut easily. After the two Alteans had awoken, they had done everything they could to get the Castleship back up and running smoothly, that included repairing and updating the pods... not that they had used them many times, not in the grand scheme of things, they had their Lions, and Coran could usually hold his own in the Castleship.

  
Thankfully, one of the pods would be put to good use.

  
The young man left the hangar and proceeded back to his room, keeping his steps as light as possible, not wanting to wake any of the light sleepers. He reached into his pocket and drew out a small, faded photo. The edges were curled and worn, but the smile that his mother and his father bore brightened the photo enough to make it seem like it was brand new... even if it was four years old.

  
His own smile faded from his face, and he slowed to a stop outside his room's door. Four years... would they remember him? Did they think he was dead? Probably. He had quite literally disappeared off the face of the Earth, how could they hold any hope in his existence?

  
Well... he'd find out soon enough.

  
"Lance."

  
The young man's head snapped up, looking straight ahead of him. He forced a small smile. "...Coran... I didn't even hear you. What's up? Why are you still awake?" He asked, his voice a little rough from under-use.

  
Lance saw his own sadness reflected in Coran's halfhearted smile. The red-headed man walked forward and placed his hand on Lance's shoulder. "Different sleep patterns... besides," Coran held up a small bag, just big enough to fit in Lance's jacket's inside pocket. "you'll be needing provisions, won't you?" He said quietly.

  
Oh shit.

  
He'd promised himself he wouldn't cry about this, he'd already cried enough over the past year, and yet here he was, his eyes stinging yet again as he allowed himself a watery chuckle. He wiped at his eyes with his palms, then reached out, pulling the older being into a hug. "What would I do without you, Coran?" He sighed, curling his fingers into the back of Coran's shirt.

Coran laughed quietly and patted Lance's back. "Let's not think about that, yes?" He teased. They stood there for another moment, before they pulled apart. Coran's own eyes were a little glassy, reflecting the dim, blue light from above as he smiled at the young man in front of him. "Lance... I had two boys on Altea... I've told you this before, of course, but..." He shook his head. "Reylif... he was just like you... he was caring and kind, and generous to a fault..." He took in a deep breath. "...and it hurt to lose him the way I did, but I won't lose you the same way... you really are like a son to me, Lance, and as much as I'm going to miss you-" He stopped, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes as his voice broke. "-I'd rather not see you and know you're alive and happy than see you... see you dead because you lost your will to live, like Reylif." He finished, opening his eyes again in time to see the tears fall from Lance's blue eyes.

  
Lance shook his head and sniffed. " _Ay, Dios mío_ , Coran, I'm gonna miss you..." He paused, then tucked the small bag into his pocket, before he reached into his jean's pocket. "I-uh... I know that you're probably not gonna have any time to make it all the way out there, not with this war going on, but here-" He pressed a small piece of paper into Coran's calloused palm. "-this is my country's coordinates... my address-my home, I mean, is there too, but I'm not sure if they're still there... but I'll be in that country for sure, if I'm anywhere on Earth." He smiled.

  
Coran bit his lip and curled his fingers protectively around the piece of paper, before he tucked it into his breast pocket and buttoned the pocket shut. "I'll keep it right here in the front of my mind, Lance." He said, tapping his forehead. Lance laughed softly, and Coran's eyebrows tilted upwards sadly. "Do you... want me to tell the others where you are?" He asked hesitantly.

  
Lance's heart skipped a beat, and he hesitated, but he shook his head. "Nah... I... I'm not sure how much they care anymore, I mean.... Keith's back in Red, Shiro in Black, and Allura in Blue... they don't need me anymore, and I'll just take up space... but, if they do..." His mind wandered to Hunk, and he smiled. "...they'd probably do something stupid. I'd rather they not know where I am and search for a little while than waste time coming to Earth and trying to convince me to come back." He reached out and grabbed Coran's hand. He raised his eyes to meet his, and he set his jaw. "...if I'm gonna head out, I'd best go now, or I'll never get my ass off this damn ship." He joked.

  
Coran's lip trembled slightly, but he rolled his eyes. "Then go, my boy... you know the way." he said knowingly, shaking Lance's hand.

  
Lance drew his hand back to his side. He grinned a little, even as tears made their way down his cheeks. "Latitude +0° 2′ 46.2″, longitude 179° 56′ 39.4″, right?" he murmured. Coran nodded, a true smile beginning to show on his face. Lance bit the inside of his lip. "...Coran?" He started.

  
Coran swallowed. "Yes, my boy?"

  
Lance closed his eyes, not wanting to see the look on his face. "...you lost Reylif, but Reylif lost one hell of a dad... and I'm glad I got to find a father out here. I'm glad it was you." He choked out. He heard Coran hold back a sob, and he reached out blindly, finding Coran's hand again. "Thank you, Coran... for everything... I hope I get to see you again someday.... preferably when this damn war is over." Lance managed to say.

  
".... Same to you, Lance... this team has lost an amazing member, and I'm sad to see you go, but-" Lance opened his eyes as Coran squeezed his hand. Coran smiled. " _Te deseo lo mejor._ " He spoke.

  
Lance laughed, louder than he would have liked, and he smiled widely, feeling happier than he had in a long time. He may have mangled the pronunciation of a word or two, but there was more meaning in that then anything anyone had said to him in years. The lump in Lance's throat grew as he tightened the grip on Coran's hand. He opened his mouth and almost whispered his next words.

  
_"Hasta siempre."_

 

* * *

 

_Dios mío- My God._

  
_Te deseo lo mejor- I wish you the best._

  
_Hasta siempre- Until forever* A farewell used in Spanish if you're most likely never going to see each other again._


	2. Dissipate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith finds out.

"For the last time, I'm fine!"

Keith blinked, a little taken aback by the harsh tone Allura had used when she snapped at him. She caught his surprised stare, and guilt flashed across her face. She took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders, pinching one of her tense muscles between her fingers. "...I'm sorry, Keith, everyone... I'm just..." She trailed off, then looked at her feet, dropping her hand to her side. "...nevermind. It's nothing."

Keith stiffened a little. He knew that excuse all too well... he was about to say something, but their resident Yellow Paladin got there first.

"Allura, you know... you can talk to us if something's bothering you, you know that, right?" He asked, sounding a little unsure of himself.

Keith understood where his uncertainty was coming from. A few weeks ago, after the Black Lion had taken Shiro back, and Red had shut him out, only accepting Keith... Lance had started to withdraw from the team. They had tried talking to him, only to be assured that he was fine, that he was finally getting to enjoy some down time... bullshit, of course, and everyone knew it, but... what were they supposed to do? He wouldn't let them in, even Hunk, he'd turned him away more than a few times... they hadn't seen Lance in about a week, but sometimes that would happen, and when it did, there was no helping it... when Lance didn't want to be found, you couldn't find him.

Keith was snapped back into reality when Allura's voice broke into his musings.

"Well, it's just that... Blue's been.... oh, how do I say this...?" She paused, touching her lip gently with her slender finger, then tapping her chin thoughtfully. "...distant? With me? Three days ago, I felt-through our bond, of course- very angry, and scared. I don't know what happened, but ever since, she's been... short with me. If we communicate, it's the bare minimum, and nothing more." Allura shrugged as the other Paladins looked at each other in wonder. This didn't usually happen. "Perhaps... maybe it's not connected, but there was something strange I noticed; a few wires here and there were out of place, in the castle, and some of my life energy seemed to have disappeared the last time I checked. I'm wondering if there's some minor malfunction in the castle that Blue noticed, and she's mad that I haven't been keeping up." She reasoned, although she sounded uncertain with her explanation.

Pidge cocked an eyebrow. "That doesn't sound right. The Lions haven't really cared about what happens on the ship until now, if what you're saying is true." She said, crossing her arms.

Hunk frowned. "But, if the Lions noticed that something was wrong, like-like an-an energy leak or something, then they might be worried about lowered security, like... how much of a disaster would it be if the systems holding the hangar doors shut suddenly failed? The Lions could be lost in space, and we might not even noticed until we needed them!" He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself, because the last thing they needed to worry about was something they couldn't figure out.

There was a short silence, then Shiro sighed. "Well, whatever it is, I'm sure it's not going to be as bad as we think. I'll talk to Coran about checking up the castle's systems, and-"

"What are you going to be asking me about?"

The small group jumped a little, and their heads turned towards the bay doors, where Coran stood, an inquisitive look on his face.

Allura stepped forward, placing her helmet under her arm. "Just a bit worried about castle systems. You wouldn't happen to know if there was something wrong with anything, would you? The remaining life energy stored in the Castleship seemed to have disappeared last I checked... was something leaching from it, do you think?" Allura asked.

Coran raised his eyebrows and looked down. "...No, but that is worrisome, isn't it?" He frowned and looked back up again. "But, to my understanding, there was only a small amount left. I can't imagine it being vital to our wormholing capabilities, or any other important functions." He said.

Keith frowned a little, seeing Coran looking a little paler than normal. He watched him closely as he continued to talk with Allura and Shiro, looking for other oddities. Other than the fact that he seemed a little less chipper than usual, and the occasional forced grin, nothing seemed out of the ordinary...

But Keith had learned that even a little bit "out of the ordinary" could mean that something was very wrong.

"-eith... Keith! Dude," Hunk's voice jolted him out of his mind again, and he blinked, looking up at the taller of the two. He and Pidge stood next to him, watching him with slight concern. "you up for some food? You look a little... lost." He finished after taking him in.

Keith's face heated up a little bit as his stomach growled, seemingly right on cue, and he reached out to gently slap a snickering Pidge upside her still-helmeted head. "Y-yeah, fine, I guess..." He agreed, a bit embarrassed at apparently being hungry enough to completely zone out more than once. As they left the hangar, he shot Coran one more glance.

Whatever was up, he would get back to later, after he had gotten out of his armor and eaten something.

* * *

He didn't expect the red-headed man to startle so much at the question.

Or, maybe it wasn't so much the question, but the fact that Keith had not alerted the Altean to his presence beforehand.

Coran looked up from his place at one of the small control panels scattered throughout the Castleship, his eyes wide. "I-I'm sorry, Keith, could you repeat that, please?" He asked, turning back to the control panel. Keith noticed that he didn't go back to whatever he was working on before he had walked in.

Keith crossed his arms, trying to look slightly intimidating, but not exactly threatening. "I asked if you actually knew what happened to that life energy Allura was talking about before." He repeated, leaning "casually" against the doorframe. He watched as Coran blinked. He waited patiently, and he felt a little apprehension when Coran sighed.

"...Keith, I do know where it went, but... it's really not my place to say where it went, or how it was used." He murmured finally, sounding a little defeated.

Keith's eyes widened slightly, taking in the scene in front of him. Coran was leaning agains the control panel, his arms tense, his head drooping a little. Keith didn't think he'd ever seen the man look so... so...

Defeated.

Keith took a few steps forward and, pausing hesitantly, placed a hand awkwardly on Coran's shoulder. He bit the inside of his lip, then tried to sound as calm as possible when he next spoke.

"Coran, it's... I think it's important to know what happened, even if it's, uh... 'not your place to say'. It could be serious. If it's something that could affect Voltron, or the Castleship for that matter, we need to know." Keith couldn't figure out why there was a sinking feeling in his chest, or why his heart had started to speed up, just enough for Keith to notice.

Coran took in a deep breath and straightened up. "It... it does not affect Voltron, or the Castleship. The amount of life energy left wasn't enough to provide sufficient aid in the castle defense or offense, and it wasn't nearly enough to wormhole the whole ship in case of an emergency... why, if it were to be used, it would barely be enough to wormhole a small ship!" His laugh was forced, but that wasn't what made Keith so uneasy.

No, what made Keith's heart seem to stutter to a stop was the gaze Coran locked onto him. His dark blue eyes were intense, as though trying desperately to convey something to Keith, but he couldn't see what. It was like Coran wanted him to know, even if he said it wasn't his place.

Keith's heart began to slow down a little from its rapid pace, and he nodded. He returned Coran's knowing stare and backed away. "Well, thanks for telling me that, anyway. I'll try to find out where the energy went, just out of, uh... curiosity. It's good to know that it won't affect Voltron though, or any of our assets." He said, not turning away just yet.

Coran watched him for a moment, then turned back to the control panel with a sigh. "Yes... yes, I'm glad as well." He murmured.

Keith frowned, seeing the older man slump into his defeated position again. Even if he wouldn't admit it, he was fond of the older Altean, finding him to be an interesting person beneath the horrible jokes and odd trivia, and he didn't like to see him acting so out of character. He knew what-or, who, really-could cheer him up, but he hadn't seen him in a while.

He shrugged to himself. 'No harm in asking, even if he probably doesn't know.' He reasoned. He was backing away towards the door, and he stopped at the entrance, his hand on the metal frame.

"Hey, Coran, have you seen Lance at all? We haven't seen him in a while, and it's worrying me a little... Coran?" Keith asked, his tension returning to him like a raging bull as he watched Coran swiftly turn his head away from Keith, so that the younger couldn't see his face. "Coran- what's-"

"No, I-I haven't seen him in a few days... wish I could help you, Keith." Coran straightened his shoulders and went back to tapping on the control panel's holographic screen. Keith didn't miss the hand that went up to his face for a brief moment, as if to wipe something from his cheek, before it went back to work. "T-tell him to come see me if you find him."

Keith's heart pounded. He gripped the doorframe until his knuckles went white, and his eyes stared into space.

The sinking feeling in his chest returned. His lungs felt like they were full of lead, his feet feeling like they were chained to the ground.

He fought against the heavy, trapping feeling and darted from the room, his footsteps pounding against the metal floors as he raced past the common area, past the kitchens, ignoring Hunk's startled call, past the Control Room.

Each footstep resounded as a heartbeat in his ears as he reached his destination. He skidded to a halt in front of the former Blue Paladin's door and barely paused to take in a few gasping breaths before he pounded his fist against the metal. "Lance! Lance, open up, tall-ass!" He slammed his fist against the door until his fist went numb. In a last resort attempt, he placed his hand on the access system, praying it hadn't been locked against the others, but knowing it probably had been.

The door slid open easily, and Keith felt the tears gathering in his throat rather than his eyes. He choked back a small noise that might have been 'Lance' as he took in the spotless, empty room. No clothes, no knickknacks or face products.

He didn't waste any time. He left the room, trying to bite back the tears that had made their way to his eyes as he bolted for the hangars. He heard Shiro call out to him, but he ignored him. He reached the hangars and headed for the escape pod bay, rather than the Lion's bay. One look told him everything he needed to know. An escape pod was missing, one that had been there not two weeks before when they had been documenting the Castleship's information.

Keith slid to the floor, his knees not willing to hold him up. The tears were gone, replaced by a hollow sense of shock that he didn't know what to do with.

"Keith! What in the world are you running around for?!" Shiro's voice reached his ears, but he couldn't bring himself to respond. "...Keith? What's...what's going on?" He felt a hand on his shoulder, and Keith ripped his eyes away from the empty space the pod had left when he... when Lance had...

His eyes met Shiro's concerned gaze, and it began to sink in.

"Lance- Shiro, he's-" His eyes swam, and before he realized it, there was water on his face, salty, hot water that he wished could just disappear, that he wished could be there for no reason, anything would be better than-than-

"...he's gone."


	3. Él Era Hogar

He did not expect the landing to be so rough and... wet.

He thought, maybe, that the craft would land smoothly on the beach, or on one of the small islands surrounding his home country, but no... Instead, he crashed into the water far off the shore of Cuba, undetected due to the small escape pod's cloaking mechanisms.

That was probably the most terrifying part of the fairly short journey home; barely making it out of the craft before it sank into the depths. It was dusk, and he began worrying that maybe this had been a waste of time... he was going to die here, in the ocean, without anyone ever knowing where he was... until, of course, he spotted a Coast Guard ship not too far off. They heard his calls and sped over to get him.

It was easier than he thought, making something up to tell the Coast Guard. He said he'd been paddle-boarding, and a riptide had pulled him out after he'd lost his board. Believable enough, it wasn't the first time it had happened... well, maybe the "fully clothed" part was odd, but not way too out of the ordinary.

They draped a shock blanket over his shoulders, even though he knew he wasn't "in shock". They steered them into shore, and Lance assured them that he was fine, and that his home wasn't too far away, and that " _Si, si, estoy bien, muchas gracias._ "

It only took a little while to figure out where he was. He remembered this hotel, the _Playa Caleta_ , only a ten minute drive from _Playa Veradero_... and from there...

A lump formed in Lance's throat as he stood on the street, his clothes damp, his hair sticky with salt.

Never mind the crash.... facing his family was going to be the most terrifying part of the journey.

Nevertheless, he walked down the road a bit, pondering what to do. He could walk, yes, it would take a lot longer, but he didn't have any money for a cab...

After five minutes of trudging along the cracked pavement, Lance sighed. He was too tired for this. The trip back had taken it out of him, and the treading-water he'd done had used up almost every bit of energy that had remained.

Giving up, Lance walked to the first designating hitchhiking spot he found, then waited. Just in case, he stuck out his thumb. He wondered how stupid he looked, but he wanted to get home too bad to take any chances.

Luck was on his side that evening, it seemed. A local cop was driving by, and- due to the rule that government vehicles _had_ to stop for hitchhikers if there was space- pulled over with a smile and a friendly wave that Lance realized he had desperately needed. At least the young looking cop didn't recognize him as the young boy who had disappeared from the Garrison so many years before. He got into the passenger's seat and thanked the cop, telling him his address and telling him that his family couldn't pick him up.

Lance must have nodded off against the car door, because before he knew it, his shoulder was being gently shaken.

" _Hemos llegado._ " The cop said kindly. Lance blinked a couple times, then thanked him before getting out of the car. At the sight of his old house, he tripped and almost fell onto the sandy asphalt of the driveway. He assured the officer that he was fine, and thanked him again before the man backed out of the drive and disappeared down the road.

Lance stood -frozen- in the driveway, looking up at the house. His hands trembled. He could see a few lights on, one of them being the dining room lights. Shadows flickered across the dark ground outside. Obviously, none of the inhabitants had noticed the car pulling into the drive, and if it was anything like Lance remembered, it was because the room at dinner was always loud and busy with voices and laughter.

Lance's eyes teared up, and a sob ripped it's way out of his throat. He crumpled to his knees, holding a hand to his mouth.

Was his family even still here?! Was this just a new family? If it was his family, did they remember him? It had been so long, surely they had moved on... or, maybe they thought he was dead... he might as well have been, he literally disappeared off the face of the earth!

He sat there a moment, fighting back the tears, and rubbed furiously at his eyes. He took a deep breath and pushed himself to his feet. There was no use sitting around on the rocky driveway, waiting for something to happen.

He forced his tired, shaking legs to move, and he walked up to the front door. He fussed with his clothing, trying to make it a little more presentable... as if that even mattered.  
He stood there for a full two minutes, then steeled himself and looked at the mailbox next to the house number, ready to see the family name... ready to see if it really was his family.

His eyes flooded with tears again, and he gave a watery laugh out of shock and relief.

_Álvarez_

Sure, it was a common surname, but what were the chances?

Lance swallowed against the tears and the new lump in his throat, and raised his fist. He hesitated, then slammed his eyes shut.  
He knocked.

Nothing.

He sighed, then raised his hand again. Of course, that had been way too quiet, they wouldn't have been able to hear that over the sounds of the dinner.

He knocked again, louder this time, making sure it was loud enough to hear.

He dropped his hand and waited, keeping his eyes shut. He didn't want to see any faces yet, he couldn't do it, he couldn't-

" _¡Por favor! ¿Podrías callarte durante dos segundos? Tenemos un-_ "

Lance sucked in a breath at the familiar voice, and silence hung over him like a heavy, suffocating blanket... he swore, he felt like he was back in space, surrounded by the silent, endless vacuum.

"....Lance?"

The world went absolutely still. The silence spread to the house, where the sounds from dinner hushed immediately. Lance could hear the waves not far off.

A tear slipped down his cheek, but he didn't open his eyes yet.

" _....Hola, Mama_." He whispered, his voice cracking pitifully. He took in a deep breath and opened his eyes, taking in the person in front of him.

Just the same as he remembered. Short, strong, weathered, pale-tan skin, wavy black hair pulled back into a messy bun to keep it out of the way when she cooked. Her blue eyes were wide and disbelieving, with just a small shine to indicate that there were any tears.

Lance's lips curled a little into the smallest smile he could ever make, and he laughed softly.

" _Estoy en casa..._?" He tried, attempting to put a little of his old humor into his voice.

The rest of the evening faded into a blur after his mother's arms wrapped around his thin waist and pulled him close.

The laughter, the crying, the smiles and questions, Lance could barely remember any of it, but it ultimately didn't matter.

It was early that morning when his mother finally ushered the others to bed, seeing that Lance was tired and obviously overwhelmed by the loud, energetic group, but Lance didn't mind. Honestly, he could have fallen asleep anywhere, but his mother brought him upstairs to his old room, which she had left untouched. The thought brought tears to Lance's eyes, but they were quickly wiped away when his mother scolded him lightheartedly, telling him that there would be too much crying to come to be wasting the tears then.

That was where Lance was now, laying on his bed, his tongue still remembering the taste of the first earth food he'd had in years, his head a little foggy with the few celebratory glasses of wine his father had shared with him, and his lips tilted in a small, contented smile.

His heart felt better than it had in ages. The pit in his stomach was filled, the weight from his lungs lifted.

But, laying in bed, surrounded by the dark and the quiet...

He felt like...

Something was still missing.

Lance frowned into the blackness, trying to think of what it was, before giving up and shrugging.

Whatever it was, it could wait...

Because now, nothing else mattered, except that he...

He was home.

He was _home_.

One last tear dripped from the tip of his nose, and he smiled at his old- no, his room.

_Él estaba en casa._

* * *

_Sí, sí, estoy bien, muchas gracias- Yes, yes I'm fine, thanks so much_

_Hemos llegado- We're here (We've arrived)_

_"¡Por favor! ¿Podrías callarte durante dos segundos? Tenemos un- Please! Could you shut up for two seconds? We have a-(guest)_

_Hola, Mama- Hello, mom_

_Estoy en casa- I'm home_

_Él era hogar/Él estaba en casa- He was home_

* * *

Hey, look at that, another chapter!

So, I'll be updating this somewhat regularly, but I can't promise anything... school year starts tomorrow (fuck) and yeah.

Anyways, hope you're enjoying reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it!

<3

(P.S. I'm in no way fluent in Spanish, I'm ashamed to say I'm using Google Translate and my tiny amount of info retained from middle school... along with my "side-attempts" at learning the language... so, if there are any Spanish speakers who are disgusted with my translations (10/10 would not be surprised OR offended), please, tell me a better translation, and I will fix it right away, haha! Thanks!)

(EDIT- Thank you to nekolion for helping me with translations and such! :D

 


	4. One Way

Keith didn't know how many tears a human could produce until he watched Hunk receive the news that Lance was gone.

He actually got mad...

He didn't think he'd ever seen Hunk so angry before, and he didn't _ever_ want to be on the receiving end of it ever again. It took all of his strength not to burst into tears all over again... no _way_ was he gonna cry in front of them, no way...

But the anger faded fast, replaced quickly by a sort of... hollow shock, which was almost worse. Keith watched him carefully for a few months after the whole incident, ready to send him a sympathetic look when he saw him tear up during a meeting, or when he bent over the counter in the kitchen, abandoning his current project to collapse in on himself again.

Keith wasn't sure how Pidge was dealing. She seemed so out of it, and tired, so Keith suspected she wasn't getting as much sleep as she should have been. He'd heard someone wandering the halls late at night, but that could have easily been Coran.

Who wasn't taking it well either.

He wasn't aware of how close he and Lance had become. Keith had almost gone off on him, after realizing that he'd known Lance had left, but he stopped quickly, noticing the tears in his eyes and sensing the apologies that were about to come pouring out of his mouth. He bit his tongue and gripped the older alien's shoulder tightly instead, before swallowing the lump in his throat and disappearing into the training room for another unhealthy amount of time fighting the gladiator.

Shiro had come to talk to Keith a couple times, wondering if it was him who chased Lance away, or if he could have done something to prevent it... that, or it was to force Keith to go to bed, or talk to him.

Which was where Keith was trapped now, his hand gripping the hilt of his bayard, his head facing the ground. His hair had grown out longer, because Keith couldn't muster up the incentive to cut it again, and the bangs hung down, hiding his face from Shiro. The rest was pulled up in a ponytail above his neck, which was red and wet with overexertion.

"-are you listening to me, Keith? I'm really starting to worry about you, and not just about your..." Keith looked up sharply, glaring at Shiro with a warning in his eye. "...mental state, but your physical health." Shiro finished firmly, not deterred by Keith's aggressive expression. Keith said nothing, and Shiro walked towards him. "You're getting really thin, Keith, I'm concerned. You're not showing up to dinner anymore, and you're not eati-"

"I _am_ eating." Keith snapped, responding to Shiro's advance with three steps backward. "I just don't come to dinner." He muttered, raising his head and averting his eyes as he wiped at his sweaty brow with his free hand. Silence. Keith sighed in exasperation. "I'm _fine_ , Shiro, what else do you want from-"

"Why aren't you coming to dinner? The rest-" Shiro's voice caught in his throat, just a bit, before he continued. "-the rest of the team misses you, you know. Pidge and Hunk especially, they're asking why you never check in on them anymore." Keith didn't say anything. "They miss you, Keith, don't do this to-"

"What's the point?" Keith murmured, his voice dry.

Shiro blinked. "The-the point? Keith, they're your friends, they-"

"I meant- I just-" Keith scrambled for words, but couldn't find anything. "I-I can't talk to them, it was always... they only talked to me because Lance-" his voice cracked, and his shut himself up. He looked down, feeling his eyes start to sting for the second time that day.

There was a moment of quiet, before Keith heard Shiro's steps again. "Keith, I understand that you're upset, but he's alive, I'm sure he's alright, he wasn't happy-"

"And now _I'm_ not happy, Shiro!" Keith blurted out.

The air thickened, and Keith's eyes widened, and he shivered. Shit. He hadn't meant to say that...

The younger boy turned from Shiro and raised his sword. "...S-start training level 23!" He shouted into the room. He heard the hatch in the ceiling open, and he turned towards the practice drone as it hit the floor.

"Wha-Keith, no, stop, what are you-!" Shiro called out. Keith ignored him and charged the drone, meeting it's strike with his own weapon and pushing against it. It was much stronger than the last one, and he struggled as he parried the next blow and threw his own attack. His eyes drooped and he staggered, feeling dizzy all of the sudden.

"Keith!"

He was hit in the stomach with the length of the drone's staff, sending him crashing into the floor.

"End training sequence!"

Keith groaned and pushed himself up onto his elbows, coughing a little from the blow. He felt Shiro's hand on his shoulder, and he smacked his hand away.

"Keith, please, talk to me, I know you're not okay, I need to know what I can do to help you-"

Keith clenched his teeth and shot to his feet, backing away from Shiro while staring at his feet, not wanting his older brother to see his face. "You can't! You can't help me, Shiro, damn it, can't you see?! He's gone, he's gone, what am I supposed to-" A sob escaped his lips, and he clapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes wide and watering dangerously. He dropped to his knees, giving up.

"...Keith, I didn't know how much he... how much he meant to you, I didn't- were- were you two really that close? It was hard to tell-" Shiro tried to say as he knelt in front of Keith, not knowing what to do or say.

Keith let his hands fall to the floor, his nails scratching against the metal. Tears dripped between his hands, and he hiccoughed, trying to hold back the sobs. "Please, Keith, you're scaring m-"

"I loved him, Shiro, I loved him! Damn it...." Keith raised his hands to his hair and pulled, trying to distract himself. He shuddered, listening to the deafening, shocked silence. He laughed bitterly. "You happy now, Shiro!? You happy!? I went and fell in love with that fucking idiot, and when he wasn't my right hand man anymore, it was bad enough, and then he went and- and-" He sobbed again and slammed his eyes shut, not wanting to see Shiro's no doubt disgusted face. "-and he went and fucking _left me!_ " He took in a shaky breath and decided to face his brother head on, thinking it couldn't get worse than this. "What-what the hell do I do now, Shiro!?" He wailed, letting his hands fall from his hair. Shiro's eyes were wide, his mouth slightly slack. Keith trembled. "What do I do!?"

Shiro blinked, then closed his eyes. He clenched his teeth and before he knew it, Keith was pressed firmly against Shiro's chest in a tight embrace.

"....Keith, we'll find him... what you have to do is keep moving, alright? You're never going to see him again if you die, right?" Shiro almost whispered the words. Keith noticed he was shaking a little, and he curled his fingers into the back of Shiro's uniform. "...Please, Keith... I-we all care too much about you to see you fall apart like this, please..." He squeezed him, then let him go. He grabbed his shoulders and looked him in the face, forcing a small smile to his face. "You have to meet him again, right? Let's see if we can keep you healthy until then..." He tried to joke, but his eyes were glistening.

Keith bit the inside of his lip, then looked down at the floor. Another moment, then he nodded. His lip trembled, and his shoulders shuddered. "...I'm sorry..." He rasped.  
Shiro gripped his shoulders again. "Don't be sorry, Keith..."

Keith opened his mouth to apologize again, then closed his mouth. He rubbed his palms against his eyes, wiping away the tears, and Shiro stood up. He looked up at his older brother tentatively as Shiro held out his hand to him.

Shiro smiled warmly, his eyebrows tilted in sympathy. "...let's go join the others for dinner this time, alright, Keith?" He asked quietly.

Keith sniffed and, keeping his eyes turned away, took Shiro's hand and allowed himself to be helped to his feet.

Trying to ignore the aching and stinging of his muscles and his skin, he followed Shiro silently from the training deck.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

_"You have to meet him again, right? Let's see if we can keep you healthy until then."_

The words echoed in his head, and he scoffed quietly.

Well, he couldn't promise anything like that...

But he _would_ see Lance again.

One way or another.

* * *

Hey!

So, updates will probably be irregular, since school's just started and I'll be gettin' back into the swing of things.

But I hope you enjoyed this (infuriatingly short) chapter!

Have a nice one!

 


	5. You'll Be Fine

God.

Damn.

It.

Lance tossed onto his side again, curling his legs up to his chest, before stretching out onto his back again and sighing loudly in frustration.

He should be tired... why wasn't he tired?!

He sat up, grabbed his pillow, and flipped it over for the third time that night, before flopping back down onto the bed. He felt antsy, wired, his mind was moving at a mile a minute, and he groaned, dragging his hands down his face.

He'd been home for a week. It had taken some time, and a surprisingly small amount of convincing his family, but he'd told them what had happened to him. Everything. Finding the Blue Lion, going to Arus, and fighting a race of evil purple aliens... well, yeah, that did sound crazy, but he apparently seemed stable enough in the head for his family to believe him, and it helped that the Garrison had accidentally let slip about the sighting of the Blue Lion and the Galra escape pod that Shiro arrived in all those years ago.

So, there was nothing to worry about, right?

So why couldn't he sleep!?

Lance stared up at the ceiling, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Over the past week, he'd probably gotten around 3-5 hours of sleep a day... except for two of those days, where he couldn't sleep at all... and when he did manage to fall asleep...

Lance shivered. The nightmares that plagued him at night had surprised him. He hadn't had them when he was on the ship... well, in the beginning he had, but he got used to it pretty quickly, having felt safe in the Castleship, with the Lions and his teammates around him, and the wormhole to get them to safety in a pinch.

But here, on Earth...

He was so vulnerable- _too_ vulnerable. No particle barriers, no wormholes or teludavs, no Lions...

And none of his teammates.

Lance's eyes teared up, and he let his lids slide shut.

He'd woken up from that first night- the only night where he'd gotten any sort of undisturbed sleep- and realized what it was that he missed.

Or, _who_ it was he missed.

He missed Hunk, he missed his best friend. He was the only one out of any of them who would really spend time with him. They had bonded during their Garrison days, and Lance knew that was a bond that no one could be able to break. He and Pidge were on good terms, they were friends, and he missed her, but they were never really very close, not like he and Hunk were. He missed the playful bickering though, and teasing Pidge while she tried to work on whatever tech she had come up with this time.

He missed Shiro too, to some extent, but they had never been close. Shiro had been Lance's idol, but when he got to know him... he wasn't impressive enough, apparently, to gain any sort of real connection with Shiro. It was always Keith who got the attention, always Keith who overshadowed Lance, who always got praised by Shiro, _noticed_ by Shiro.

Keith.

Lance's cheeks burned with embarrassment, but also with sadness. How could he have formed any sort of romantic attachment to that asshole? The most they ever became was friends, and that was only after Shiro had disappeared, when Lance was piloting Red, when Lance was Keith's right-hand man, when they were-

When they were _something_.

And then they found Shiro.

And everything went back to normal.

Keith was praised and thanked for finding him. For leading the team. For "holding them together".

And Lance was shut out by Red.

And Lance was shut out by Blue.

And Lance just...

Was shut out.

Allura had apologized about Blue, but nothing more. The two of them weren't close to begin with, Lance had always gotten along better with the other Altean.

Lance allowed a small smile to grace his features, even as tears slipped down his cheeks. Coran. That guy. _Damn_ did Lance miss him. Shiro may have been the other's "Space Dad", but Lance had _siblings_ who were older than Shiro, and Coran was-

Lance's breath caught in his throat, and he clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle any other sounds.

Coran was _there_ when Lance needed someone.

Coran was there when Lance was homesick, when he was crying, when his unstable mental state went too far out of whack, when he just needed someone to listen to him, or when he just needed someone to sit in silence with him as he stared out at the emptiness of space while everyone else was sleeping.

Lance clenched his teeth and sat up abruptly. He threw his long legs over the side of the bed and held his face in his hands, drying the tears away.

He needed to sleep. The only good sleep he'd gotten was the night he returned. He was happy, he was fed with his mother's cooking, he was-

Lance looked up blearily as something in his mind clicked.

He had been drinking.

Lance scoffed and shook his head. No way. Not a good idea. Not at all. Who knew what that could lead to?

He sat in the silence of his room for what seemed like an hour, waiting for himself to get tired, tired enough to fall back under the blankets and pass out. If the circles under his eyes were anything to go by, he _should_ have been tired enough, but he just _wasn't_.

Lance growled and slammed his fist down on the bed frame, before he yelped and brought his hand to his chest at the pain. He hissed as he rubbed the knuckles that he supposed were quickly reddening from the punch, and he closed his eyes.

Another minute.

Two.

Three.

Lance huffed.

_Fuck it._

He got to his feet and made his way through the dark to his door. He felt for the handle, grabbed it, and cautiously opened the door. He looked up and down the hall, making sure no one was awake, before he quietly made his way up the hall and down the stairs. His hand traced the wall, feeling the dents and scrapes from careless childhood games.

He skipped the last step, which he remembered squeaked, and found himself in the dimly lit living room.

Lance looked for the source of light, finding it to be the bright, full moon, whose light was streaming in the window and casting sharp, silvery-blue shadows on the carpeted floor. He couldn't tear is eyes away from the moon, and he slowly crossed the floor, his footsteps almost silent. He moved around the worn down couch and touched his fingers to the cool window pane. He watched the stars for a moment, then almost winced as a strange-yet familiar- feeling made his stomach clench.

Lance's eyes widened as he placed a name to the sensation.

Homesi-

Lance tore his eyes away from the sky and stormed into the dining room, going straight through to the kitchen. He reached up into one of the upper cabinets and pulled down a bottle. He didn't want wine, he wasn't doing this for pleasure, he just wanted to get to sleep, and if this might have been the reason he'd gotten a full night's sleep that first day, then he'd be damned if he wasn't going to try it.

He glanced at the label, not surprised that it was rum. It was his father's favorite, since before Lance could remember. He grabbed a glass and didn't hesitate in pouring a glass.

His heart pounded in his chest, and he kept reminding himself that this was fine, he was legal, he was just doing it to get to sleep, he was _fine_.

The reddish-brown drink seared his throat and made his tongue tingle strangely, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle... he had scars all over his body from countless injuries, far worse than just an unpleasant sensation in his mouth, and hell, it was better than Nunvil.

He put the bottle back in the cabinet and lifted himself up onto the counter to sit. He knew if his mother came down and saw him, she'd scold him into next week... or, maybe not, she'd been more gentle with him than he remembered... maybe that's what happens when your son disappears for years on end without a trace.

Ten minutes later, the glass was empty, and Lance closed his eyes, happy to feel that he was, indeed, much more relaxed than he had been before. He slid down from the counter and placed the glass in the sink, filling it with water, but not washing it. He wanted to get up to bed before he missed the short window of opportunity.

He turned off the lights he'd flicked on and trudged back up the stairs to his room. He closed the door with a soft click and walked the few steps to his bed, where he collapsed onto his stomach. He lay there for a moment, his brow creased with worry. Was that a mistake? Should he not have done that? Why was he so conflicted about this?  
The small flutter of anxiety was quelled as he maneuvered himself under the covers again and rolled onto his side. He smiled, feeling the familiar, welcome hands of sleep pulling at him.

Whatever. It worked.

There was no harm in using it to get to sleep until he calmed down and settled in.

Lance closed his eyes. Tomorrow, maybe he'd go out to find a small job. That would help with the excess energy he had. Maybe he'd try to get out and connect with people... he couldn't stay here forever, he was an adult, he needed to find his own place in the world.

The thought of the Garrison crossed his mind, and he shook his head. No way. They didn't know he was back... if they found out, they'd bring him to some facility and keep him under watch, testing him, interrogating him... Lance was done.

Lance was done with all of that.

Sleep began to muddle his thoughts as he relaxed into the sheets, and he sighed.

"You'll be fine, Lance..." He murmured to himself as he drifted off.

"You'll be fine..."

* * *

Whoops.

Well,

Here's another chapter!

I only have one more prepared, so it'll probably be a while before I post again, so I can "stock up" on chapters. :)

Kay, quick note- if Lance is talking to family/Earth folks, he's speaking Spanish unless it's obvious that he's not... it'll say something like "He said in English", or maybe it'll be in italics, I dunno... I'll let you know when the time comes.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed!

Have a nice one!

 


	6. Bring Him Back

"STOP IT!"

Keith gasped as Pidge's fist found the unarmored part of his suit, right in the stomach, making him double over coughing. Blood dripped from his head and hit the metal floor of the hangar, and the room spun wildly.

"Pidge, stop that! He's already injured!" Shiro's voice echoed through the room, and a tiny, bitter smile made it's way onto Keith's face.

Damn it.

Pidge snarled and grabbed Keith's shoulder roughly, pushing him to a standing position and glaring at him. "Well obviously this idiot WANTS to be hurt!" She snapped, but despite the anger, Keith could see the tears forming in her eyes. She shook him. "You've GOT to stop doing these kinds of things, Keith! It's not helping you, it's not helping Voltron, it's not helping anyone!" She shouted.

Keith couldn't find the words to respond, but he was saved from having to as Hunk took Pidge's shoulder and gently pulled her back. Hunk smiled sadly at Keith, and Keith's cheeks burned with shame. He averted his eyes and grabbed his wrist nervously, something he started doing out of habit after...

After the incident.

"Keith."

Keith kept his face turned away, but he heard Hunk, Pidge, and Allura leave the hangar.

He felt Shiro's hand on his shoulder, and Keith ducked his head lower, knowing what was coming.

"Keith, did you do that on purpose?"

Keith stayed silent, remembering the moment Shiro was referring to... flying Red straight into the engine room of the Galra supply ship, and charging into the fray with no one to back him up.

It ended up with a head wound, almost losing his bayard, and almost getting caught in the following explosion as the engine combusted... if Red hadn't snatched him up in her jaws as he floated in the open space surrounding the vessel, he would have died for sure.

This time.

He was sure it was going to work.

Shiro sighed heavily, but Keith could hear the disappointment and exasperation, even if there were no words. Apparently, Keith's silence was enough of a conformation.  
Keith was pulled against Shiro's chest, and Keith's resolve began to crumble. His lip trembled, and he shook his head, pressing his face into the front of Shiro's breastplate to muffle the quiet sob that followed. From the motion of Shiro's shoulder, Keith was sure he was rubbing his back, but he couldn't feel it through the white and red armor he wore.

"Keith, you have got to stop this... I know that you feel hopeless, I... I get it, Keith, you know I do." He gripped Keith's shoulder plates and pulled back to look him in the eye. "But it's been a year and a half, Keith... you need to let go." He said, his voice quiet.

Keith shook his head, but stopped when the action made the room spin like a top. He closed his eyes, and a tear rolled down his cheek. He felt Shiro take his helmet out of his hands and place it down somewhere. "...let's get you to the med bay and get that head wound taken care of." He murmured.

Keith didn't complain as he was lead to the med bay and sat down on one of the beds. His fingers curled into the white sheets as Shiro called for Coran over the comms. He winced a little as he felt Shiro press a cotton swab soaked in alcohol to the gash on his forehead, but he didn't move away. He took a deep breath and hoped the silence would last.

It didn't.

Coran entered the med bay with one of his hand-held scanners and tried to force a convincing smile as he approached. "Hello, Keith. Got a little banged up on this last mission, I see." He said, motioning for him to stand up so he could get an accurate reading.

Keith feigned a small smile for him, knowing that Coran was hurting too. "Yeah. I'll be... I'll be more careful next time." He rasped. His throat felt dry and his voice unused. The scanner beeped as it recorded the data, and Coran sighed.

"Well, it's not too serious. You have a mild concussion, and you haven't lost enough blood to reach dangerous levels." He inspected the cut on his forehead with his own eyes, then nodded. "And you don't need stitches, it's not deep enough." He pocketed the scanner with a small breath of relief. He reached out and patted Keith's shoulder. "Slap a bandage on there and take it easy for the next couple days; no training, definitely no fighting, and plenty of rest." He advised, glancing at Shiro, who nodded. With that, he threw Keith another smile, then left the bay.

Silence again.

Shiro huffed.

Keith stayed quiet.

"Keith, this is getting ridiculous." Shiro said.

Keith shrank a little under the words. He knew that. He knew it was ridiculous, he knew he was being childish, he knew all that! God, why didn't anyone just let him follow through and-

"Keith, please, say _something_. Everyone's- well, I'm sure you don't need me to tell you this, but everyone's really worried about you. This is so unlike you! Over a year, Keith! Please, we're afraid you're not going to bounce back from this!" Shiro's voice rose in a slight panic, and Keith's eyes drew together in guilt.

"I'm sorry..." He apologized.

"I know that, Keith, we all know that! We never blamed you, Keith, everyone knows what you're going through! You don't have to apologize, but _please_ -" Shiro knelt in front of Keith and grabbed his wrists, running his thumbs across the scars. "- _please_ , stop trying to do this! We don't- we don't want to lose another teammate!" He said urgently.

Keith looked away in shame.

"...we don't want to lose another friend, Keith... you're part of our family, and even more so for me, god, Keith, you're my little brother, you can't-" Shiro paused, then cleared his throat. "-you _can't_ leave me, Keith." He whispered.

Keith's eyes pooled with tears, and he opened and closed his mouth, trying to form some sort of sentence, anything, _something._

Nothing came out, save for a small, strangled sort of whimper, which made Keith's cheeks flush red. He heard Shiro sigh, before he stood and wrapped his arms around Keith.

They stayed that way for a moment, then Shiro pulled away.

There was silence in the room as Shiro went about placing a bandage over Keith's wound and taping it in place. He took Keith's shoulder and helped him stand. They were walking to the door when Keith finally found it in himself to say something.

"...what's the point, Shiro?"

It wasn't a real question. It was something they had started. Keith would ask, and Shiro would give him a reason.

_Who will pilot Red?_

_Pidge needs someone to make her go to sleep._

_Hunk needs you there to be his friend._

_Coran can't lose someone else important to him._

_Allura needs someone to challenge her when her ideas aren't the safest._

Shiro grabbed Keith's shoulder, and he tensed.

This wasn't going to be the same as the others.

"If we see Lance again, what would we tell him?"

A painful, choking sensation began to grow in his throat, and the tears started to fall. The grip on his shoulder tightened, and Keith nodded silently.

Alright.

Alright.

_'I can make it a little longer.'_

_'Just a little longer.'_

* * *

The third day after the mission found Keith and Hunk sitting in the common room, a mess of cards between them as they played some sort of version of War with the Altean card deck they'd found a few years back.

Hunk groaned as Keith beat him, and he lay down the rest of his cards. "Alright, fine, you win..." He muttered lightheartedly.

Keith felt a small flicker of happiness temporarily drown out the dark thoughts his mind was making up. He shrugged and let a tiny smile onto his face. This seemed to make Hunk brighten, and he gathered up the card, holding out his hand for Keith's. "Come on, best three out of four."

Keith frowned a little as he handed over his cards. "Is that a thing?" He asked quietly.

Hunk grinned. "It is now." He took Keith's cards into the deck and began to shuffle them. Keith looked out the large windows at the open space.

"It's been pretty quiet, hasn't it?" He murmured.

Hunk followed Keith's gaze, forgetting about the cards for a moment. "Yeah... it's a little weird, but I'm not going to complain." Hunk said, going back to the cards.

Keith nodded slowly and crossed his arms. "I guess... it's just a little unnerving." He sat for a moment, fidgeting, then he sighed and stood up. "I'll be back in a while, I gotta move around a bit." He said, moving towards the door.

"Alright. I'm gonna get something to eat, I'm pretty hungry." Hunk said, following Keith. Keith relaxed a little as Hunk fell into step beside him.

They'd become close after Lance had left... and, of course, after Hunk's anger had dissipated. while Keith had fallen into something that he... well, he hated to call it depression, but that's how everyone else had called it, Hunk had needed someone his age, after his best friend had left, and Keith was the only person on board the ship who really fit the criteria.

Hunk insisted that they were already friends, but Keith wasn't sure... but then again, maybe that was just his head trying to crush him again.

It did that a lot.

"You alright, Keith?" Hunk's voice broke into Keith's thoughts, and he looked up at Hunk. Over the years in space, he'd lost a lot of weight, but it had quickly been replaced by muscle. Not that he wasn't the same exact "teddy bear" as Lance called him, but if you didn't know the guy, he would probably look pretty intimidating.

Keith nodded and pulled a smile to his face. "Yeah. Just thinking."

Hunk hummed and placed his arms behind his head, stretching as he walked. "Alright. Just checking." They stopped in front of the kitchen, and Hunk clapped his hand against Keith's back. "Meet you back in the common room?" He said, opening the kitchen door.

Keith nodded. "Sure thing." He replied, before turning and starting off down the hall. He let his feet move, not really thinking about where to go, and he let his mind tune out as well. He didn't want to think about anything, not right now, not when his mind was doing everything it could to off him.

The silence was pressing in on him comfortably as he walked, and he only realized where he'd gone when the door slid open with a hissing sound. Keith looked up and blinked.

The Blue Lion sat in her hangar, her particle barrier up. Keith looked around, seeing if anyone was there, before he entered the hangar. The door slid shut behind him, and he was left in the room with Blue.

Keith smiled sadly and stepped forward until he was just in front of the pulsing, blue particle barrier. He sat down and crossed his legs. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, and watched Blue. His gaze unfocused a bit, and he let his eyes flutter shut. He breathed out slowly, feeling a little calmer in Blue's presence.

He didn't know how long he was there, but he was jerked out of his thoughts by a low rumble.

His eyes snapped open, and he looked around. It didn't sound like Red, and it didn't sound like there was danger...

Keith raised his eyes to the Lion in front of him, and he stared.

Blue's eyes were glowing, and as he watched, the particle barrier went down.

Keith scrambled to his feet and ran forward. Blue didn't move, but the rumble sounded again, and he realized it was in his mind. He blinked.

 _'Are you talking to me?'_   He asked, mostly to himself.

Keith yelped as Blue suddenly moved, getting to her feet and bending so her face was just inches from Keith's.

Keith stared, then hesitantly raised his hand. Blue didn't seem to disagree when he tentatively touched her metal nose with his fingers, before he pressed his palm to the surface.

He gasped as pictures flooded his head, one after the other, too fast for him to see all of them, but he saw enough.

_Lance._

Keith jerked his hand away, but Blue followed.

_Bring him back._

Keith's eyes went wide and he watched Blue in disbelief.

_Bring him back, Red Paladin..._

Keith closed his mouth, then nodded.

_Bring back my Paladin._


	7. Backfire

 "Angelo! Señor García's boat leaves in 15, and these crates aren't gonna move by themselves!"

Lance groaned quietly and rolled his eyes as he lifted on of the large, wooden shipping crates onto a rickety moving dolly. "Only one load after this, Desi, then it's all set to go!" He called over his shoulder. He grinned and looked back. "Look at you, you haven't even broken a sweat, pretty boy, get that ass working!" He went on teasingly.

Desiderio -Desi- scoffed and crossed his arms across his well-toned chest, but a tiny smile tugged at his lips. "I don't sweat as much because I'm in better shape!" He quipped easily, but he did grab an empty dolly and started to lift one of the three remaining crates. "And you know that even though I'm only filling in for Riel, I still have more stamina than you!"

True to his name, Desiderio was, in one word, beautiful... desirable. Dark tan skin with freckles splashed across his cheeks, forehead, arms, and back. Shoulder-length, wavy black hair tied back into a ponytail, and warm, hazel-brown eyes.

Lance's arms flexed as he hauled the dolly over the gangway and onto one of the smaller shipping boats. He unloaded the crates with the others, then pulled the dolly back onto the dock. He sighed, brushed off his hands, then put an over-exaggerated skip in his step and clapped Desiderio on the back as he jogged past him. "Tell that to Lilia, she could tell you about my stamina!" Lance crowed with a grin.

Desiderio snorted. "Can it, Angel, don't talk about stamina when your's and Lilia's 'thing' lasted all but-" he paused for effect as the dolly clacked loudly against the connector between the gangway and the boat- "two weeks? Right?" He joked.

Lance hissed and tilted his flat hand in a sort of _así así_ gesture. "Different kind of stamina, Desi." Lance looked up at the sound of a short foghorn blast. He grinned and sent Desiderio a thumbs up. "Shift's over- all the crates loaded?" He asked as Desiderio reappeared with the now-empty dolly.

Desiderio gently pushed and let go of the dolly, where it bumped to a stop against one of the wooden rails, before he wiped wood dust and grime from his hands onto his shorts with a grimace. " _Dios Mío_ , how do you all work like this every day?" He complained. He shook his head. "Crates are loaded, shift's over, I'm dirty and gross, and my everything hurts." He moaned as they headed down the dock.

Lance nodded. "Sounds like a good, productive day to me." _'Of course it would to you, Lance, you were a soldi-'_ "Let's go get some food, I'm starving." He added, rolling his shoulder to try and ease the ache that had settled in there a few days before, after lifting a crate with less care than he should have taken.

Desiderio shot Lance a look. "Bum food off of Decarlos?" He offered.

Lance raised an eyebrow. "Is there any _other_ way to get free food?" He asked.

Desiderio face forwards again as the dock turned to the gravel covered road of solid land. "Decarlos it is, then." He said cheerily.

It took them not ten minutes to walk from the docks to Decarlos' family's small restaurant. They were smart; they opened the restaurant far enough from the docks so that the smell of fish didn't reach them, but close enough for the tired, hungry dock workers to choose their food... and Lance and Desiderio were happy to oblige.

The bell jingled happily, alerting the staff to their presence. Lance and Desiderio approached the counter, knowing that Decarlos' shift was also just about to end.

"Do I know you two?"

Lance chuckled and Desiderio turned towards the kitchen door, smiling at the figure who stood there.

Average height, heavy-set, light brown skin and chestnut hair, Decarlos seemed to Lance the Cuban version of Hunk, minus the muscle and combat training. He had one, dark blue eye, while the other was lighter and clouded over, unseeing. A large portion of the left side of Decarlos' face was marred by a mess of burn scarring, due to a kitchen accident that occurred when Decarlos was ten, and a bad decision earned him a faceful of hot oil. The result was a blind eye, scars, and half an eyebrow. It would have been a scary sight for almost anyone, but Decarlos made it fade out with his huge, warm smile and his even bigger, warmer heart.

Desiderio casually leaned across the counter and clasped Decarlos' hand, a friendly, platonic gesture... if you didn't know the two and you didn't notice the brief, loving eye contact.

Lance shrugged. "I don't know, do you?" He half-joked. He and Decarlos laughed, but they locked eyes for a split second.

It was an unspoken matter, but Lance was sure that Decarlos knew... well, not everything, obviously, but Decarlos had an exceptional memory, and if Lance remembered Decarlos from his childhood, then the younger boy _definitely_ remembered Lance, and knew.

Knew that his first name wasn't Angelo, or Angel, but Lance.

Knew that Lance had gone to the Garrison, then disappeared.

Knew that Lance had seen -and been through- more than he let on.

Well, most people suspected that Lance -or, rather, Angel- had been in the war. Glimpses of his battle scars, the way he would sometimes jump at loud noises or sudden movements, his unwillingness to discuss or share anything regarding his past... not to mention, they all knew not to touch him when he didn't know they were there, unless they wanted an elbow to the stomach or heel to the shin.

Lance knew all of these things only reinforced their speculations, and he let them believe it. He wouldn't confirm, nor deny any assumptions. Better to let them think he'd been discharged from the military on Earth, rather than tell them the truth and convince every person on the docks that he was clinically insane.

"I'm guessing you two are hungry." Decarlos' voice broke into Lance's racing thoughts, and Lance responded by grinning and running his fingers through his hair. This is precisely why he chose a job that made him be physical... it kept his mind off his thoughts.

"You bet, Decarlos." Desiderio cheered, pulling out his ratty wallet. "What's the best thing on the menu today?" He asked.

Decarlos rolled his eyes and reached out, grabbing Desiderio's wallet and putting it in his back pocket. Desiderio groaned in protest and frowned, but Decarlos slapped a hand over his mouth. "You can have it back when you realize that you two don't have to pay for your meals... at least not after my shift's over." He added, laughing. He straightened up and reached behind himself, untying his apron. "C'mon, we'll go to my place and have some quiet, how's that sound?" He offered, opening the door to the kitchen and hanging the apron up on the inside of the door.

Lance stood up, welcoming the excuse to keep moving. "That sounds awesome, actually... besides, I need to see my husband." He joked, referring to Decarlos' dog, César.

Desiderio's face scrunched up in mild disgust as he stood as well. "Gross, Angelo." He muttered.

Lance stretched and smirked as his back gave a satisfying crack. That felt good. "Whatever, Desi..." He turned to Decarlos, pointing at him. "-actually, before we leave, can I just buy a beer real quick? Been a long day." He reasoned. Decarlos watched him and there was a short, slightly awkward silence, before he shrugged and went to the fridge, pulling out a bottle. Lance grinned and pulled out his own wallet. He handed Decarlos 50 pesos and took the beer. He winked teasingly. "Keep the change." He snorted, grabbing one of the counter's bottle openers and cracking open the top.

Decarlos huffed with an exasperated smile and came out from behind the counter. Lance walked over to him and pulled him into a hug, before the three of them headed back out onto the street. Lance sighed and brushed his hair back from his face. It was probably around 32 degrees out, and humid... hopefully Decarlos' air conditioner decided to work today. He took a sip of his drink, glad that he had asked for something cold on this hot, muggy day. He let himself tune out the conversation as he took in his surroundings.

The sound of the ocean and the general bustle of the streets was usually enough to quiet his mind, but it seemed like today, nothing would. His thoughts had plagued him, on and off, all day, from the moment he got up in the morning 'till this moment, walking just behind Desiderio and Decarlos.

Lance frowned and felt the weight of the bottle in his hand, guessing without looking that it was about half empty. It had been worse than usual-the memories, that is. Faces. Battles. Wounds.

Emotions.

"Whoa, _Asere_ , slow it down, it's not even four!" Desiderio laughed. Lance looked up, noticing that he had drained the bottle. He raised an eyebrow at Desiderio-who was walking backwards-and shrugged.

"I've been at the docks _since_ four, I think I deserve to relax a little, hah?" He explained, feeling a little defensive.

Decarlos glanced over his shoulder, then exchanged a glance with Desiderio, then looked back to Lance. "Angel, we're just a little worried... if you're stressed, you should take a day or two off, I'm sure your boss would understand." He said with a small smile.

Lance felt annoyance flicker in his chest, but he forced a grin. He scoffed, then sped up a little to catch up to the other two men, where he fell into step between them. "Don't worry about me, _niño_ , I'm fine. And I uh..." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "...I'm already having a little rent problem, so I might have to take up a second job as it is, I can't take a day or two off, as much as I'd like to... besides," He threw an arm over each of their shoulders. "I get Sundays and Mondays off, and Luis is visiting with his baby this weekend, I got too much to look forward to, I don't wanna risk having to make up work days during the weekend." He smiled warmly. Thinking of his family kept his mind off of other things.

Decarlos returned the smile, and a familiar face flashed in Lance's memories, replacing Decarlos with a tall, burly Samoan boy with the gold headband.  
So much for keeping his mind off of those "other things".

The smile faded from Lance's face for a moment, but he quickly recovered and clapped Desiderio and Decarlos on the backs. "We there yet? I gotta put my feet up!"

Desiderio snorted and teasingly brushed Lance's arm off. "Not on any of Decarlos' furniture, he'll kill you slowly."

Lance turned to Decarlos again and pouted, trying to get a laugh. "You wouldn't..." He whined.

Decarlos rolled his eyes and pushed Lance off of him. "You smell like fish." He muttered.

Lance crossed an arm across the chest and pointed at Decarlos with his free hand. "So do you! You work in a kitchen all day!" He shot back easily.

" _Dead_ fish, Angelo;  _long_ dead, low tide fish." Desiderio snickered. Lance smacked his shoulder.

"Not _my_ fault they don't clean the docks often enough." He grumbled.

Decarlos and Desiderio chuckled, and Decarlos turned to him. "You can use my shower when we get to my place... you need it." Desiderio barked out a laugh, and Decarlos frowned at him. "You too, you're no better, Desi." He added.

"Ha, you're not gettin' anything tonight if you smell like that, _chulo_." Lance muttered under his breath, earning two red faced glares from his "closeted" friends.

"Angel, be quiet. Don't talk like that!" Decarlos hissed, looking around nervously. Desiderio patted his shoulder reassuringly, but it did nothing to ease the scared look on Decarlos' face.

Lance felt a little guilty, but mostly just sorry that Decarlos felt so strongly about hiding himself. He knew _why_ ; his family was Catholic, and they weren't always the best around gay-or bi-individuals. Lance had only needed to deal with a few years of quiet awkwardness from his family, before they realized that he was no different than he was before he "suddenly liked boys and girls".

He offered him a sheepish smile. "You're totally right, Decarlos, so-"

_**BANG!** _

Lance yelped and stiffened, his mind blanking out for a moment. His heart pounded against his ribcage, his hands shot to his hip, where his bayard would be activated, and his shield would go up and protect him- protect him-

His eyes widened. No shield. No shield. He was gonna be shot, he was gonna die, he wouldn't-

"Angelo, Angel, _socio_ , you're okay, you're okay, shit..." Desiderio's voice began to drift into Lance's hearing, pulling him back. His breathing slowed, just enough, and his tensed, trembling muscles began to relax, but he couldn't bring himself to pull his hands away from his hip. His eyes flickered up to Desiderio to find him staring at Lance's steady hands, the only part of his body that wasn't shaking.

Lance straightened a little bit, trying to take control of his breathing again. He looked around cautiously. A couple people had been watching, but looked away quickly as Lance noticed them. He spotted a motorcycle stopped at the curb at the other side of the street, and he sighed, his shoulders slumping.

It had backfired loudly, he supposed, resulting in a sound eerily similar to a gunshot.

"Angelo, come on, let's go..."

"You alright?"

Lance took in a deep breath and grabbed Decarlos' and Desiderio's shoulders. "Yeah... yeah, I'm fine... told you I was on edge, right? Ha..." He tried to joke.

Decarlos and Desiderio nodded slowly, then looked at each other again with apprehension.

Lance's expression hardened a little. They knew what was coming, but they just had to deal with it. It wasn't like he was mean or anything, just not present... completely, at least.

And it was better than the anxiety and the PTSD.

_'Now I know how Shiro felt...'_

Lance cringed.

Shit.

_Shiro._

_Allur-_

_Hunk._

_Pidge._

_Coran._

_Kei-_

"Let's take a taxi. I need that shower."

Decarlos squeezed Lance's upper arm. "You got it, _hermano_."

* * *

I be back!

I'm so bummed! I can't watch season four yet, because I'm watching it with someone, and they aren't even finished with season 2, and I just.... raaaaaaawwwr.... so no spoilers in the comments, please, not even hints! I'm walking a dangerous line even BEING on AO3 with all the tempting fanfics, and I can't even look at the tags, ugh.

Alright, well, I hope this was a good chapter, even if it was short... it's obviously been at least a year and a half since Lance has been back, so yeah, that's where we are.


	8. Recall

Hey, I'm back, and I watched Season 4... whoa. My heart.

I won't put any spoilers yet, but I may incorporate some of what happened into this plot, so I'll warn you if I have to, but once it's been about a month, it's fair game, lol.

Anyways... there's some triggering stuff in this chapter (Self-harm), so if you don't think you can handle it, please skip, 'cause it sucks to be triggered, been there, done that,  _doing_ that, haha (nervous laughter).

Anyhow, hope you enjoy!

* * *

 

 

_Bring him back, Red Paladin._

Keith clutched his hair and shook his head.

_Bring him back._

He groaned and dropped his hands into his lap. He let his head fall back to hit the wall, and he hissed at the warm, sticky feeling beneath his fingers. He opened his eyes and looked down at his bare thighs. He still had his boxers on, but his pants were bundled on the floor.

Keith lifted his hand from his bleeding thigh and winced as the blood-which was starting to dry-pulled at the cuts he'd made. He glanced down at his side, where a razor lay, looking innocent enough on the sheets beside him. He turned his attention back to his legs. Keith's eyes narrowed.

_'What the fuck have I become?'_

He moaned and sat up, moving slowly, as if that would help the pain. He had to tell someone. He'd promised them, he'd promised Shiro, he'd promised them all...

But maybe not yet.

His breath hitched-much to his displeasure-and he covered his mouth with one, bloodstained hand. He could smell the metallic scent, and it made his empty stomach churn.

 _'What the hell...'_ He thought to himself with bitterness, then he slammed his balled fist onto the sheets. _'...have I done? This isn't me! What happened to Keith! I shouldn't be doing this! Fuck...'_

"Fuck..." He whispered, tears welling in his eyes. He blinked hard, forcing them back. He already had to tell them that he'd relapsed, he wasn't going to be fucking crying while he did it.

He stood up and staggered into the bathroom that was attached to his room. He tripped over a discarded shirt and stumbled, but he caught himself on the bathroom's door frame. He looked back at his messy room and shook his head.

"The fuck happened to you, Kogane?" He rasped. He chuckled mirthlessly. "I didn't think I had enough stuff to have a messy room..." He muttered, entering the bathroom and shutting the door behind him. He'd acquired things over the years, mementos, clothing from other civilizations, weapons... and he'd stopped caring about cleaning up.

After Lance left, of course.

Keith pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to dispel the thought before it escalated into something more.

_Please, I beg you, Red Paladin-_

"Give me more time, Blue, please..." Keith coughed, feeling the lump in his throat grow. He didn't actually know if Blue was communicating with him, or if he'd actually lost it... he wouldn't really be too surprised.

The voice silenced, the emotions and the pleas, and Keith leaned on the sink counter. He looked up at the mirror and stared blankly at his reflection. Shiro made sure that he cut his hair enough to keep it out of the way, and forced him to take showers... however, there was only so much his older brother figure could enforce, and sleep was not one of them.

He had dark circles under his eyes, and his skin was paler than it had ever been... it also didn't help that at the moment, he had smears of blood on his mouth and chin, and on the bridge of his nose. A small, bitter smile found its way onto Keith's face, and he huffed. He really looked like a crazy person now, damn...

He splashed water on his face, scrubbing the blood away, before he sat down on the toilet with a wet washcloth and a first aid kit. He set about washing his injuries with mechanical, fluid movements-some would say a "practiced ease". He closed the worst of the cuts with butterfly closures, then wrapped gauze around his thighs. He taped the white bandages off, then stood. He looked at the bathroom floor, at the scraps of bandage and cloth, then decided he would come back later to clean it up... maybe.

He left the bathroom and scanned his floor for a pair of loose pants. He eventually found his red pajama pants, which he rarely used, and pulled them on, trying not to dislodge the bandages. He sighed deeply, then left his room, leaving the mess exactly as it was. There was no use in hiding the razor, or cleaning the bloodstains- he was going to tell them anyways.

Keith stood in the hall for a moment, then headed down towards the observatory. It was on one of the upper levels, so he decided to take the elevator. He paused in front of the doors, then forced himself to walk through into the cabin.

_"What the heck do you think you're doing?"_

_"Allura said there's a pool, I'm gonna go check it out... what do you think you're doing?"_

_"Ugh, same thing."_

Keith pinched his arm, pulling himself out of his thoughts. He shouldn't think of that, not right now. Not right now. Not ever.

Unless he had to bring him-

He forcefully pushed the button to the 6th floor, and crossed his arms as the elevator began to rise up smoothly. He hummed something absentmindedly, so he wouldn't think too much, then stormed out of the elevator once it had stopped and the doors had opened. The observatory was just ahead, just behind that door...

_"Hey, Keith... do you miss Earth?"_

_Lance's eyes were far away, and he was calmer than Keith had ever seen him. He cocked an eyebrow and crossed his arms._

_"I don't know... I mean, I didn't have much." He muttered, shrugging and walking forward so he stood beside Lance's seated figure._

_Lance looked up at Keith, his incredibly blue eyes suddenly piercingly focused-focused on him. "Not your shack? Not your friends or family?" He asked._

_Keith huffed. "Didn't have any." He said bluntly, trying to ignore the dull ache in his chest._

_Lance's brow furrowed. "No friends? Gee, I wonder why, you're such a nice guy." He said dryly._

_Keith's heart pounded a little from the pain. "Yeah, maybe that's why my parents left me." He huffed, looking away. There was a silence, then he heard Lance shift awkwardly._

_"Shit, Keith... I'm sorry, that was a jerk thing to say..." Lance apologized softly._

_I sighed. "It doesn't matter. I'm not upset about it."_

_Lance barked out a short, crisp laugh. "Yeah, then I'll just have to be upset about it for you." He said, elbowing Keith's calf._

_Keith winced. "Jerk."_

_Lance grinned, and Keith's heart fluttered again. "Whatever, Mullet."_

_Keith paused in the doorway, seeing that the room wasn't empty._

"Coran?" He called out softly, causing the red-haired man to startle and look around.

Coran saw Keith and relaxed a bit. He offered him a small smile. "Keith, good to see you up and about, but... Hunk was looking for you. Did you find him?" He said, turning around fully.

Keith looked down in guilt. Right. "I-I got sidetracked... sorry." He murmured.

Coran waved his hand dismissively. "I don't think Hunk has it in him to get mad at you about something like that... he did have to deal with a friend who was constantly switching gears... you Earthlings called it ADHD, didn't you?" He rambled.

Keith's heart sank at the mention of the absent, blue eyed Paladin, but he smiled sadly and dug his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants as he approached Coran. He stopped at the Altean's side and looked out at a nebula he didn't recognize... he could have been in a dream, and he wouldn't have been able to tell.

"...I miss him, Coran." He whispered, keeping his eyes trained on the dark expanse before him, not wanting to see the expression on Coran's face.

Keith felt a grip on his shoulder, and Coran sighed. "I do too, Keith... maybe... maybe not in the same way," He chuckled. "but he was like a son to me... it was hard to watch him leave." He murmured, letting his hand fall to his side.

Keith turned his head and watched Coran carefully. His face was an open book of loss and memories, but still he smiled that small, sad smile of his. "Why did you help him leave, then?" He asked, his voice soft. It wasn't an accusation, just a question.

Coran looked at Keith and inhaled deeply. "Well, Keith, it's..." He hesitated, then looked back at the stars. "It's complicated, see... he was feeling lost, and homesick, and-I hate to say it, because he just wasn't, but-he was feeling useless." Coran sighed. "I lost my son Reylif to those same kinds of thoughts... I wasn't about to let Lance do something that-" Coran stopped mid sentence, then cursed quietly as Keith shuffled his feet. "...Quiznak, Keith, I'm so sorry, I forgot-"

"Don't be sorry, Coran, I'm fine." Keith breathed. He forced himself to fake a tiny, hopefully reassuring smile. "Honestly. It doesn't bother me like that." He muttered. He wasn't really lying... sure, it bothered him, but otherwise, it didn't really affect him. His brain was fucked up anyways, it couldn't be made much worse.

"But, Keith-"

"Can you tell me about Lance?" Keith asked, cutting Coran off. He glued his eyes to a bright star far off in the distance, and a small, almost genuine smile graced his features. "You two were close, I'm sure you have good stories." He added, glancing at Coran.

 _'Anything, anything to make me make up my mind about this whole thing...'_ He pleaded to no one in particular.

Coran laughed softly. "Well, now... he was teaching me his mother language." He said with a chuckle.

Keith huffed. "You? Spanish?"

Coran grinned and replied with an accent-mutilated _"Sí!"_

Keith actually laughed a little at that. "That must have been interesting..." He hummed.

Coran nodded, settling himself down on the steps in the observatory floor. "Oh, wouldn't you know it! He was actually a very good teacher!" He laughed.

Keith sat next to him, placing his elbows on his knees. His thighs stung, but he barely noticed. "What else?" He pressed, intent on his "mission".

Coran drummed his fingers on the cool, smooth floor. "He said he loved to dance... and sing. I caught him doing it late at night in the kitchen." He frowned playfully. "I suspect he might've gotten into the Nunvil that night, because as soon as he saw me, he ran like a startled _aarlope_!" He crowed. He tweaked his mustache. "Not to mention, there was considerably less Nunvil in that bottle after that... I always thought he hated it." He mused.

Keith chuckled. "I think I remember that night, he came into my room by mistake... I think you're right, he'd definitely gotten into the Nunvil." Keith recalled, closing his eyes as the flickering of a memory began to pull at his attention.

_"...Hey, Keith, why're you in my room?" Lance asked, sounding just as dazed as he looked. And... was that an accent?_

_Keith cocked an eyebrow and set down his knife, which he'd been cleaning. He stood from his bed. "...This is my room, Lance... are you okay? You look a little-" Lance giggled, and Keith blinked. "-off." He finished slowly._

_Lance suddenly walked forwards and grabbed Keith's shoulders. He grinned widely, and his blue eyes seemed to shine brighter than any star that Keith had ever seen. "I don't hate you, Keith... jus' thought you should know that!" He cheered, before he patted Keith's shoulders and walked backwards towards the door, which activated the mechanism and slid open to let him through. "I'll be going to my room now! Hasta la later, amigo!" Lance's slightly swaying figure disappeared as the doors closed, leaving a confused and mildly flustered Keith standing, alone, in the middle of his room._

"Keith?"

Keith shook his head and smiled. "Just... remembering it." He caught Coran's worried stare and sighed. "It... helps, Coran, believe it or not... I'm not just torturing myself."

 _Lies_.

Coran shrugged a little and laced his fingers together. "There was also the time he tried to skip straight to level 15 with the training bot... as bad as it looked, it was also quite amusing."

Keith scoffed. "Right..." He murmured. He remembered that too... and he remembered what the others didn't.

He remembered he-

_-left his room, very late in the artificial night they'd set for sleeping, and began to wander the halls._

_He gasped quietly when he heard a door slide open at the end of the hall, and he ducked around the corner, his hand on his knife, which he kept on him at all times._

_Keith's eyes narrowed. Was there somehow an intruder in the castle? He relaxed a bit. No, the alarms would have gone off... it was probably just Shiro... despite what he said, his PTSD seemed to be pretty bad, keeping him up some nights, making him almost constantly on edge._

_Keith stood slowly from where he had crouched. No harm in checking on him then. He was about to leave his hiding place when the source of the noise ran by, quieter than Keith thought someone could move on the metal floors of the Castleship._

_He blinked._

_Lance?_

_He moved without thinking, following the Blue Paladin through the halls of the ship as the taller boy wound his way through the labyrinth of passages to the training deck. Keith watched, eyebrow cocked in curiosity and confusion, as Lance checked that his armor was on and fully secure. The Cuban boy nodded to himself, then pulled a staff from the weapons rack._

_"Start training level 7!" He called out, sounding oddly determined for someone who goofed off so much during group training._

_Keith watched, awed, for who knew how long, as Lance worked his way through the battle with the Gladiator. He wasn't having an easy time of it, far from it; he was sweating, and had taken multiple blows; he was working hard._

_Keith had lost track of time, and only barely managed to run and hide out of sight from Lance as he finished Level 8 and seemed to call it a night._

_Keith watched Lance a few times after that, not letting him know that he knew. He felt just a little bit creeper-ish, but..._

_His determination was incredible._

"Yes, he was quite the determined boy." Coran smiled, closing his eyes after seeming to pick up on what Keith was thinking... even though Keith knew that wasn't possible, even for an alien race like Alteans. "...I'm glad he was here for a few years at least... better than never having met him at all..." There was a heavy silence, and Coran nudged Keith with his elbow. "-but hey! When this war's over, the first place we go, I promise... we'll meet Lance again."

Keith smiled bitterly at the thought.

Once again, the thought of telling the others what the Blue Lion had asked of him made his heart skip a beat.

What would he do when he saw him again?

Keith stood up slowly, dusting off the backs of his thighs. "...Thanks, Coran. That was nice." He patted Coran's shoulder as he turned and left the room. "Enjoy the view... I'm going to go to my room... I'm tired." He muttered.

"Alright, my boy... anytime you need to talk, just come and find me!" Coran cheered, his voice betraying a pity that Keith hated to hear.

Keith clenched his fists, but kept his mouth shut as he left the observatory.

He needed more time to think...

                                                                                                                           .oOo.

Keith entered the room hesitantly, limping ever so slightly, and placed a hand on Hunk's shoulder. The taller man gasped and spun around, then sighed.

"You scared the life outta me, man... I mean, you were always quiet, but jeez..." He huffed, clutching his armored chest.

Keith looked down at his feet. "...Sorry... and sorry I didn't meet up with you again in the common room last night, I just..." He trailed off, not sure what to say. His thighs stung furiously, and he clenched his teeth.

Hunk offered Keith a smile. "Hey, man, it's all good, I get it, you just needed some alone time. No harm done."

Keith sighed and made himself smile back. "Still, I'm sorry." He winced a little and shifted on his feet, trying to relieve the pain of the skin tight suit irritating his bandaged injuries.

Hunk frowned. "Hey, you alright, Keith? You look like you're in pain." He asked, lowering his voice a little so Shiro, who stood a little ways off, wouldn't hear.

Keith took a deep breath. _'Now or never. Get it over with.'_ "Actually, Hunk, I-I meant to tell you last night, but I- uh- I may have rel-"

"Alright, Paladins! Are we ready?" Allura called out as she strode into the room, cutting Keith off. Hunk shot him a curious look, and Keith shook his head, mouthing _'later'._ Hunk nodded, understanding that it wasn't something to just be mentioned in passing, and turned to pay attention to Allura.

Shiro looked up at the white haired Altean, his arms crossed over his broad chest. "What exactly are we doing?" He asked, tilting his head a little. The rest of the team looked just as confused, which made Keith worried that this was one of Allura's brand new, loosely planned ideas.

Allura gestured around the control deck. "We're going to try and come up with choreographed evasive maneuvers- Coran will be here to fire the Castle's defense and offence while we work it out." She explained-somewhat vaguely-with a deceivingly sweet smile.

The remaining Paladins glanced at each other, and Keith cleared his throat, reminded of Shiro's words about him having to question Allura's... unusual methods of training.  
"Allura, shouldn't we sit down and plan first? It might wield better-" Much to his chagrin, he was interrupted yet again.

"Nonsense! Zarkon-whenever he pops up again-is not going to give us time to 'sit down and plan'. We may not be having much trouble with the empire at the moment, but we need to be prepared for anything- now, any more questions?" She said.

The group stayed silent, and Allura grinned and clapped her hands together in apparent joy. "Perfect! Let's get to our Lions!"

Without another word, Keith turned to his door to the hangar and began his smooth-yet very time consuming, he had to admit-descent into the Red Lion's hangar. He sighed to himself and shook his head. He'd tell them all later... about everything.

.

.

.

Or, maybe not, fate seemed to dislike Keith Kogane.

Black, Red, Green, and Yellow all hovered outside the Castle in the open space of what Keith learned was the Hyprocant system, waiting. Keith's heart pounded in apprehension.

 _'Come on, Blue, not now...'_ He begged silently. He swore he could feel a stubborn strengthening of resolve from the said Lion, and Keith huffed.

"Allura, what's going on?" Shiro asked over the comms, breaking into Keith's thoughts.

"Is Blue being moody again?" Pidge muttered, absentmindedly piloting Green in a lazy circle. Hunk snickered.

Allura groaned. "She's... she's completely shut me out! Her particle barrier is up!" She said in slight disbelief. The whole situation sounded oddly familiar, and Keith's heart ached.

 _'I miss him...'_ Keith thought, his eyebrows drawing together in pain.

 _Then bring him back._ Blue said firmly.

It took a moment for Keith to realize why the team had gone silent. His heart dropped. 'Shit.'

"Did you guys... hear that?" Pidge whispered.

Chaos burst out over the comms.

"Blue, what do you mean?"

"How are we hearing her?"

"Why won't you let me in!?"

Keith's grip on the controls tightened, and Red purred comfortingly to him. His eyes slammed shut.

 _Bring him back._ Blue repeated.

"Bring who-"

"Lance."

The team went silent and Keith's gravelly voice cut through the noise.

Keith took in a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. He opened his eyes. He licked his dry lips, and a mental image of Lance's smiling, practically glowing face shimmered in his mind- and judging from the collective intake of breath from the team, everyone else had seen it as well.

Keith bit the inside of his cheek, then spoke.

"She wants us to bring Lance back." He rasped.

More silence. Keith sucked in a slightly trembling breath.

"She needs us to."

* * *

.... There's only one Spanish word in this, and do I really have to translate  _Sí_ for y'all?

_Really?_

lol.

See ya next time, guys. Hope you liked!

 


	9. La Vida es Loca

_'Mamá.'_

He wasn't comfortable, wherever he was. He gritted his teeth and shifted.

_'Mamá, why did you believe me so easily?'_

Lance vaguely felt something touch his shoulder, and he brushed away the thought, trying to cling to the quickly fading dream, trying to remember-remember when-or where-

_'Lance, niño, where have-'_

_'-worried m-'_

_'-you've been dr-'_

"Angel-Angelo, c'mon-"

Lance gasped at the sudden realization that something was grabbing his arm, his right arm, he needed that for his bayard, he needed that free-

His left hand swung around towards whoever had his arm, and his eyes shot open wide. His legs tensed and he searched for ground, and for one desperate moment, he was hanging, scrabbling for purchase-

Someone caught the oncoming punch -as if they'd expected it- and immediately the voices registered in his brain.

"Angelo, _calma, hermano!"_

Lance's blurred vision focused on the hazel eyes that were right in front of him, his racing heartbeat slowing to a normal pace as he recognized the face before him.

"Desiderio-" Lance breathed, and Desiderio managed a small smile as he huffed. Lance looked to his right, where Decarlos had caught his hand in his. César- a medium sized, beige dog that looked like a lab mix- was barking quietly, tail wagging at the excitement. Guilt stabbed at his chest, and he quickly withdrew his hand. "I-I'm so sorry, I just-"

"It's all good, _hermano_." Decarlos smiled, his eyebrows tilting in sympathy as he let his hands fall slowly to his sides. It had obviously been him who was trying to wake Lance up, and judging by how quickly he'd reacted to Lance's attack, he'd been expecting it.

Lance groaned and rubbed his hands down his face. "No, it's not, don't lie... Jeez..." There was no response, and he nodded a little to himself. He liked that about Desiderio and Decarlos, once they were called out on shit, they wouldn't fight it. Keeping his eyes on his lap, Lance placed his hands on the arms of the chair he was sitting in. He figured that's why he couldn't find his footing in his half asleep state... he must have been standing in his dream.

Lance frowned as he rose out of his seat. What had he been dreaming about? He straightened up and looked at Decarlos in confusion. "Why'd you wake me up?" He asked. He winced after he'd said it. "I-I'm not mad, or anything, just curious-"

Decarlos laughed quietly and placed his hand on Lance's shoulder. "It's fine, Angel. You were having a nightmare, I think, and it's late, so we thought we'd wake you." He explained, looking concerned. "Are you alright? You look a little dazed." He went on.

Lance smiled and shook his head. "I'm fine, Decarlos... thanks for waking me up." _'I know it wasn't a nightmare... what was it?'_ He thought to himself as he turned his gaze to Desiderio, who was watching him carefully. "Do you know what time it is, Desi?" He asked, trying to change the subject.

Desiderio pulled his phone out of his pocket and clicked the home button, glancing at it before turning it to face Lance. The bright lights seemed to stab at his retinas, and the numbers doubled in his vision. He frowned, squinting at the screen. Desiderio raised an eyebrow and put the phone away. "It's around 9:40... _compañero_ , are you okay?" He asked, touching Lance's chin and gently turning his head towards him.

Lance chuckled and brushed Desiderio's hand away slowly. "I'm fine, Desi. I just don't think I'm sober yet." He guessed, shrugging.

Decarlos and Desiderio exchanged a glance, just quick enough that had Lance blinked, he would have missed it. He groaned. "Stop communicating tele-telep- _shit_ - _telepathically_." Lance muttered, tripping up a little on the word. He swore under his breath. He'd always had trouble with some words, and it wasn't helping him in this scenario. And the second glance between his two friends only irritated him further. His shoulders slumped and he watched them with one eyebrow raised. "You want me to walk a straight line? I'm fine." He muttered.

Desiderio snorted. "Alright, alright, buddy, we believe you." He laughed, gently shoving Lance.

Decarlos didn't look as convinced. "Do you nee-want a ride home, Angel?" He asked, crossing his arms across his chest.

Lance lifted one foot off the ground, partially to be sarcastic, and partially to actually test his balance. He made a show of thinking it over, then placed his foot back on the floor. "Nope. I'm all good. I can walk-all by myself, imagine that." This remark earned him a soft kick in the calf. "Ow! Okay, okay, I'm sorry, I'll stop!" Lance snickered, dancing out of the way. He started to make his way to the door. "Thanks for waking me up, guys. Sorry I wasn't much company." He said, feeling the guilt start to spread from his lungs to his stomach. Was he ever going to be anything but a waste of space?

Ha. Spac-

"Angelo, seriously... are you okay? You sound-" Desiderio stopped as Lance turned to look at them, and the taller man looked at Decarlos for help.

Decarlos chewed on his lip, then uncrossed his arms. "...sad?" He offered.

Lance bit the inside of his cheek, thinking it over. Was he sad? Yes. Was he going to tell the truth? "I-I'm alright, just-you know, had a bit of a nightmare." He chuckled weakly, rubbing the back of his neck. He placed his hand on the doorknob and César took notice, prancing towards the door and jumping up on Lance's legs, nearly knocking him over. Decarlos called out a reprimand, and Lance laughed, kneeling down to scratch the dog's neck. He stood, still ruffling César's short fur, and smiled at his two friends. "I'll make it up to you- dinner tomorrow night? I'll pay." He offered, standing with his back pressed against the wall next to the door, shoulders tense.

Decarlos opened his mouth, probably to insist that 'no, there was no need for Angelo to 'make it up' to them', but Desiderio shot him a quick look. Decarlos shut his mouth and Desiderio grinned at Lance. "It's fine, Angel, but sure, sounds good. We're both free tomorrow." He said cheerfully, waving at Lance.

Lance smiled a little. He knew that Desiderio was only accepting so that Lance wouldn't feel like he owed them something, but it was good that he'd be able to make it up to them. "Cool. And you know, I always love to see you, Desi, but I hope that you don't have to make up for Riel again tomorrow- I'll see if Fernán can find someone else if Riel can't make it." He promised, turning the knob on the door and gently nudging César with his foot so the dog wouldn't run outside with him.

Desiderio seemed genuinely relieved at this information as he sighed dramatically and draped himself over Decarlos' shoulder. "That would be heaven, Angelo. Thank you." He laughed.

Lance grinned, happy to see he'd cheered at least one of his friends up. He waved at them and took a deep breath of the air conditioned air of Decarlos' house. "Alright. I'll see you two tomorrow... have fun!" He winked, opening the door enough to slip outside, just before a pillow hit the wall right where he'd been standing.

"Oof." Lance huffed as the thick, warm, summer air crashed into him. He held the side of the house for a moment, waiting for his reeling head to go back to normal. Finally, after about a half a second, the ground stopped moving under his feet, and he turned away from the house, his steps crunching on the rocky dirt road that led down to the main street.

Lance sighed, and tilted his head back so he could watch the sky. The expanse above him was perfectly clear- despite the humidity, clouds had yet to gather, and the stars seemed to glare down at him, twinkling innocently.

His vision doubled again, and he scoffed, letting his gaze drop to the skyline, where the massive, rotating solar panels dominated the horizon.

"Stars don't twinkle in space." He muttered to himself as he turned onto the main road. He shook his head and tucked his hands into his pockets, as memories of the hours he would spend in the Castleship's observatory, staring into the black expanse, wishing that the stars would shimmer, flicker, offer him some familiarity of home; they never would. They hung, still, suspended in oblivion as they maintained an intense staring contest . Of course, the stars never winked, and Lance would never admit that the tears in his eyes were anything but basal- saline tears meant to protect his eyes dry corneas.

Lance growled and kicked a rock with a little more vengeance than he'd intended. It struck a large dumpster at the mouth of an alley, and two startled yelps echoed from the dark.

"Ey, watch it, _singao_!" A man's voice called out. Lance rolled his eyes and sighed.

" _Disculpe_..." He half-called out, not fully willing to apologize. Whether the man heard him or not, Lance wouldn't know. Not that he cared. It was probably just some guy with a prostitute, nothing for him to worry about.

Although, he didn't particularly love being called _singao_ , in any case.

Lance snorted, remembering a time when he himself had called Keith something to that effect, after the black haired boy had accidentally rammed Blue with his own lion. He'd said it in Spanish, of course, mixed in with other sputtered words of a colorful response, but he'd still gotten scolded by Shiro, seeing as the intent and the quiet choking noise from Hunk's suppressed laughter made it obvious what he'd said.

_Lance lurched in his seat as Red slammed, full-force, into Blue as Lance was rounding the corner of the Galra battle cruiser. His neck cracked painfully as the jolt gave him whiplash, and Lance cried out in pain and shock. ""Keith! estás jodidamente ciego?! Mira a dónde estás volando, hijo de puta! Dios, cabeza de pinga!" The words were really only meant to make himself feel better, but the comms were on, and the tone made his meaning clear._

_"Lance! It doesn't matter what language you're speaking, you still have to watch it!" Shiro snapped, voice crackling in Lance's ears. "And Keith, make sure you watch where you're going-"_

Lance gasped as his foot hit a crack in the sidewalk, and he staggered. His hands shot out and he grabbed the wall of a building to catch himself. He looked around hazily, seeing that there were a few people across the street looking at him and chuckling, and that he was already at the end of the main road, and his apartment complex was coming up.

Lance shook his head as he righted himself. Damn memories would pop up, no matter how much he wanted to forget them... he wondered if he had anything in his fridge back at the apartment, so he could get to sleep easier... sometimes, sleep provided an escape... well, rarely, if he was being honest, but rarely was better than nothing. But when "rarely" didn't happen, his memories would resurface, good and bad (usually bad), and make his chest ache for some reason or another.

Lance frowned as he continued his walk back to his apartment. He'd been experiencing some sort of memory when Decarlos and Desiderio had woken him up, right? It wasn't bad, he didn't think... There were no shouts, or staticky comms, or the shriek of metal as it expanded and exploded from the heat of a well placed shot from his gun or Red's white hot blaster...

Vaguely aware that he was climbing the steps to the balcony walkway that would lead to his door, Lance reached into his pocket and pulled out his key, all the while racking his brain for anything that felt familiar. No recycled, cold, Castleship air... no disembodied voice and the metal footfalls of the training bots-

His keys scratched against the keyhole, leaving yet another pale score-mark in the metal as Lance cursed his blurry vision. He was too tired for this shit. He wasn't even that drunk, only tipsy... he'd been up since four thirty, and the only sleep he'd gotten was the broken, restless nap at Decarlos' house.

After an infuriating moment, he succeeded in unlocking the door, and soon he was inside, the door safely locked behind him, keys on the kitchen counter, and his fingers fighting with the stubborn pull tab of a cold beer can as he fought back to the urge to check every room of his small apartment, just to make sure no enemies lurked in the shadows.

He collapsed onto his old, second-hand couch (given to him by his older brother, Oscar- he wasn't desperate enough to risk bedbugs or other crawling horrors) and took a sip of his drink, placing his feet on the coffee table after toeing his sandals off of his calloused and torn up feet.

Mind still half-searching for the lost dream, he remembered that he still hadn't called his mother-'She might be worried...' He thought as he pulled out his phone and opened the dial-pad. He carefully typed out the first three letters, then pressed the icon that said Home. He took another sip as he held the phone to his ear.

One ring.

 _Dos_.

" _Mijo_! It's late!" Lance laughed quietly, and his mother continued. "Well, it's late for you, anyways... how was your day, _mi alma_?" She asked, her voice soft.

Lance smiled into the metal top of the can. "...long, mamá, I'm not gonna lie... the weekend'll be a relief." He chuckled.

"... _Mijo_..." Something in her tone made Lance's mind perk up. _'There!'_ He thought. _'That was part of the dre-'_ "Have you been dr-"

"No, no, _mamá_ , no, I haven't!" Lance lied quickly, already knowing the question she was asking. "No, I'm just-I'm very tired, _mamá_ , it's been a long day, and they were short on people at the docks... I'm going to bed soon, but I wanted to call you first." He said, trying to place the reason for his slow speech on another culprit.

"...alright, _mijo_. I believe you." Angela sighed. "You'd better not be lying." She said, her voice betraying the fact that she was only half-teasing him.

Lance chewed on his lip as he placed the beer can on the coffee table as quietly as he could. "Of course I'm not, mamá..." He murmured. He could feel his head still reeling as he searched for the memory-something about lying-believing-something-

Lance's eyes widened a little and he grinned triumphantly as he finally grasped onto the memory. Duh, of course, how could he forget that-

"Lance, I know you're not listening to me." Angela's voice reached him preventing him from thinking too deep on his new-found memory.

He blinked, then scrambled to regain control of his tongue. "Ah-sh-sorry, _mamá_ , I'm sorry, I just-" His lips stumbled over his words as he tried to get them out, and Angela laughed softly, cutting him off.

"Go to bed, _mijo_... you need to sleep it off."

Regret and guilt once again resumed their attacks on Lance's lungs, and he sighed, sinking back into the couch. "You don't miss anything, do you, _mamá_?" He asked sadly, his voice quiet.

There was a small pause. "Not with you, _mijo_." Angela responded. Lance heard the clink of dishes in the background, and he could almost picture his father busying himself over the sink after dinner.

Lance closed his eyes and leaned back into the couch. "...I'm sorry, _mamá,_ I just- I didn't want you to worry..." He muttered lamely, shame tinging his words.  
"It's what a mother is supposed to do, _mi corazon_. I can't help it." Angela murmured in reply.

Lance exhaled slowly, then smiled. "You don't need to worry about my health, that much I can say." He said, his voice certain. That was the one thing he wasn't lying about. He was fine, he was safe. He was okay. " _Te amo, mamá_." He added, blowing her a kiss through the phone and causing her to laugh a little.

" _Te amo_ , _mijo_. Sleep well." Angela said, keeping her voice light.

"You too, _mamá_." He said, smiling. "Good night."

"Good night, Lance."

He heard the click of the phone being replaced onto the hook, and he hung up the phone on his end of the line. Huffing at himself, he tossed his phone onto the couch beside him. He leaned his head back and stared at the water stained ceiling for a moment, then closed his eyes, breathing in deeply.

He didn't need to sleep for the memory to return to him this time. He cringed a little, remembering it. He was definitely in a bad place then. It was only a couple months after he'd returned, right before things went down the drain...

_"Mamá..." Lance murmured quietly, trying not to frighten the older woman. For someone so off balance, he'd entered the kitchen with pretty much no sound._

_It didn't work. Angela jumped a little, the spun around, a soapy glass still in her hand. Upon seeing who it was, she smiled and set down the glass. "Lance, niño, where have you been? You worried me!" Angela sighed, wiping her hands dry on her apron. She stopped in front of Lance, frowning. "You've been drinking again..." She noticed, reaching up and touching Lance's flushed, copper cheek._

_Lance chuckled a little and placed his hand over Angela's. "Sí, lo siento, mamá..." He trailed off, closing his eyes. After a moment, he shook his head. "Mamá, why did you believe me so easily? About... about space, and the war, and... everything?" Lance asked quietly._

_Angela's hand tensed, and she hesitated. Lance opened his eyes and pleaded silently with her, begging for the truth. Upon seeing his expression, Angela sighed and took Lance's free hand. "Let's... sit down, Lance... this is going to be a lot for you, I think." She said finally._

_Swallowing nervously, Lance took a seat at the kitchen table, feeling lightheaded... and he wasn't sure that it was completely the liquor's fault._

_Angela sat next to Lance, facing him in her chair. She took in a deep breath, then nodded once. "I... I met one... a... a Galra, Lance... just two years before you were born." Angela confessed._

_Lance's heart skipped a beat, and his mouth fell open. "You-I-what? A Galra? Here? On Earth?" He paused, then continued. "In Cuba? Not even America? That's where it seems all aliens used to go, space-type or otherwise!" He half-joked with a nervous laugh._

_Angela smiled weakly, then went on. "It was a day after a massive hurricane hit, hurricane Irma... she had gotten separated from her group during the storm, and she washed up on the beach." She said._

_Lance held up a hand. "Hold on; a female Galra? We never saw any pure blood female Galra... not that it matters, I guess... sorry." He murmured, letting his hand drop into his lap again._

_Angela laughed a little. "Anyways... I was terrified, at first, but I-I don't know, she was barely breathing, and-and it was just after- after what happened with Raul-" Her voice caught in her throat, and she paused. Then, she cleared her throat and continued. "I brought her to the house, your father helped. We washed and dried her, fed her, and gave her a place to stay until her group found her again." She smiled. "She didn't speak much, Spanish, English, or otherwise, but she was kind. When Maria tripped and skinned her knee, she was over there before I was... she said she was a medic of sorts... she was mostly blind, too, but it didn't stop her from fixing Maria up before I could ask 'what happened'."_

_Lance was dumbstruck. "What... what group was she in?" He asked. He leaned forward, placing his elbows onto his knees and clasping his hands together. "Did she say?" He knew it didn't matter now, but if this Galra had been on the wrong side, and she was near Angela... well, there was nothing he could do except for thank the Ancients that she and the family were unscathed._

_Angela frowned, thinking hard. "She said it was the... the blade of Manorah?" She mumbled. Lance's eyes grew wide. "Blade of Monarah? Something like that..." She said._

_"The Blade of Marmora..." Lance rasped, his mouth slightly agape._

_Angela looked up at Lance. "Y-yes... she said there was a war, and she was fighting for freedom, and she was going to... to protect Earth." She smiled, then met Lance's eyes. "And then, 22 years later, after you've disappeared, you return and say that you're fighting the same war." She finished. She sighed. "How was I supposed to think you were lying?" She asked, not sounding like she needed an answer._

_Lance's head reeled. A female Galra from the Blade of Marmora had stayed in this very house 22 years before, and his family..._

_"And you didn't tell anyone? That you had an insanely tall, purple alien as your house guest?" He asked incredulously._

_Angela shrugged. "I didn't need the trouble, she didn't either, and she had a mission... who was I to hinder her?" She replied easily. She smiled. "Besides, she was quite a wonderful guest." She added playfully._

_Lance swallowed and shook his head. "Her... her name... do you remember her name?" He asked quietly._

_Angela nodded. "How could I forget?" She breathed deeply. "Amarita... she called herself Amar, and the kids called her Amarilla." She chuckled. "That's part of the reason I remembered... her eyes were a bright, glowing yellow." She whispered, her eyes misting over as she looked past Lance into some long-ago memory._

_Well, that settled it; she was telling the truth... Lance hadn't mentioned the Galra's yellow eyes to anyone, so Angela couldn't have possibly known about them unless he had seen them for herself._

_"Alright, mijo, you need to sleep." Angela's voice broke gently into Lance's racing, confused thoughts, and he looked up dazedly at his mother. If she was worried, she didn't show it in her warm smile, nor in the weathered, lined hand she held out to Lance from where she stood. She'd learned (almost the hard way) that touching Lance without warning, or otherwise startling him was a bad idea... trauma from battle, Lance supposed, but nevertheless, it was something he needed to work on, if he ever wanted to be a functioning member of society again._

_Lance smiled reassuringly at his mother as he took her hand. She helped him up, and Lance pulled her into a hug. "Thank you for telling me, mamá... it's good to know, for some reason." He murmured. Tears welled in his eyes, and he held her tighter. "Dios, I'm so glad you're all okay." He laughed quietly. He took a breath, then pulled away. He held Angela's hands and looked her in the eyes. He was still amazed how the blues in her eyes almost perfectly matched his. "I'm going into town tomorrow, I'm going to look for a job... something physical, I, uh... have too much energy." He said with a weary grin._

_Angela's face seemed to light up. "The docks are always looking for extra hands." She offered, nodding. Her smile softened, and her eyes swam a little. She touched his cheek again. "...I'm so glad you're getting back out into the world, mijo, they're missing out on a great boy... but take your time, please... now-" She let go of Lance's hand and lightly smacked him upside the head. "Teeth, face, bed! Sleep it off, I'm getting you up early to get ready!" She cheered, gently shoving Lance towards the stairs._

_Lance laughed. "Alright, mamá, I'm going!" He said, making his way halfway up the stairs. He paused, then looked at Angela and blew her a kiss. "Te amo, mamá." He said happily, even if his voice betrayed his deep-set confusion._

_Angela smiled softly at Lance. "Tomorrow's another day, Lance. It will be better." She promised, making Lance's eyebrows draw together in a sad smile. Angela breathed out slowly, then pointed up the stairs. "Bed, mijo." She repeated jokingly, before she disappeared back into the kitchen._

_Lance sighed, leaned against the banister, and ruffled his hair. 'It's gonna be a long day tomorrow, Alvarez...' He thought._

Lance scoffed quietly. "Better get some sleep..." he mumbled, remembering what he'd said to himself as he had been walking up the stairs that night. He pressed his hands to his face and pushed the heels of his palms gently against his eyes, groaning to himself. "Why is life such a crazy bitch...?" He complained to the otherwise empty room.

He hated it, how tangled lives could get. His mother meeting a Galra before he was even born, a Blade member no less... him being so attracted to the idea of outer space, which ultimately led him to being accepted into the Garrison, which led to him meeting Hunk and Pidge, which found him on the roof of the Garrison Tech dorms- and he didn't need to think hard to remember what that had led to.

He laughed bitterly as tears pricked at his eyes. He raised his head and dropped his hands. "Should've stayed in bed. Should've let Hunk go up to meet Pidge... They would have dragged him along when the craft crashed... they would have met Keith, someone else would have piloted Blue, brought them to Arus... and then I wouldn't have been let down again..." He chuckled.

He sat still for a moment, then stood up. He left the half empty beer can sitting on the coffee table, where the condensation had begun to make a dark circle on the wood. He walked, letting his brain shut out his surroundings as much as he could, into his small half-bathroom, where he brushed his teeth and washed his face, avoiding looking at the mirror above the sink.

He didn't need to be reminded of how much of a mess he looked.

He flicked off the lights, letting his memory lead him to his room. He lay down on his bed, pulling at the tangled sheet until it covered his lower half.

He stared into the dark, watching colors and patterns shift in his vision, before he closed his eyes.

"Tomorrow will be better."

"Tomorrow is another day."

"And it will be better."

Lance frowned as he felt his body starting to drift off to sleep.

"It will...."

* * *

 

_Hermano- I feel like I don't have to translate this one, but it means Brother (Term of endearment among friends)._

_Compañero- Term of endearment among friends, especially in Cuba._

_Mi corazon, mi alma- My heart, my soul, terms of endearment among people (even strangers, in some cases (In Cuba))._

_Calma- I think you can guess this one._

_Estás jodidamente ciego?! Mira a dónde estás volando, hijo de puta! Dios, cabeza de pinga!- Pretty much translates directly to "Are you fucking blind? Look where you're flying, son of a bitch! God, ....dick head._  
_(Cabeza de pinga is apparently a Cuban insult, so I jumped on the opportunity to use it, haha.)_

_Singao- Another Cuban insult which essentially translates to "fucker"._

_Te amo- Oh come on, you guys know this one._

_Disculpe- I'm sorry/Pardon (more of an excuse me than an "I'm sorry")._

_Lo siento- I'm sorry._

_Mijo- A term of endearment among family, a shortened form of Mi Hijo (My son). *Fun fact, I tried to check this with Google Translate, and sometimes it translates it to Millet XD*_

* * *

Sorry for being gone so long! School's been a hassle, and a writer's block's had me pinned down, but I think it's going away... therefore, this chapter may not be my best work, but I figured it's better late (and not amazing) than never!

Also, sorry for more Spanish to English translations, but some words just fit better than the English ones, and I could resist throwing in that long rant... it was funny to write.

Hope you enjoyed, though!

Thanks for reading!


	10. What We Must

_Mm mm._

_No, no._

_No._

"You knew about this?!"

"For how long?"

_No..._

"Keith, you know you can't keep information like that to yourself!"

"What if we actually had to form Voltron?!"

"Keith, are you listening?"

"Keith, you have to-"

"Keith-"

The Red Paladin drew in a shuddering breath, clenching his fists in his lap. The Paladin armor was cold against his skin, but it was doing nothing to soothe the heat that was rising in his chest.

He couldn't deal with this.

"Keith, are you even listening-"

"Allura, please-"

"Princess-"

Keith jumped as a heavy hand fell on the shoulder plate of his armor, and his heart rate sky rocketed.

"Allura, it's not that big a dea-"

"Hunk, while I normally appreciate your judgement, in this case-"

"Look at him, Allura!"

 _'No, please don't look at me.'_ Keith grumbled silently, exhaling and lifting his head just a little. "I..." His voice was just quiet enough to be a whisper, and the room went silent, waiting. Keith's eyes traveled tentatively to Allura's face.

He flinched, recognizing the emotions there: hurt, betrayal, anger, confusion- all the emotions he'd heard in Lance's voice when Blue first shut him out... the same feelings that poured down his cheeks when Red had closed himself off after Keith had returned from his time with the Blade of Marmora.

"I'm sorry..." His voice broke, and he tried to cover it with a small, choking laugh. He heard Hunk murmur a protest as Keith slowly stood up to face Allura, trying to muster up some of his old conviction- some of his remaining dignity. "I-I only- I only knew yesterday... I-I-" he felt a lump forming in his throat and his brow furrowed in irritation.  _'What the hell?!'_ He thought angrily. He coughed and continued.

"After I left Hunk, I-I found myself in Blue's hangar, and she-" He cut himself off, reminding himself of the hurt in Allura's eyes; she didn't need to know that Blue had let her particle barrier down for him. That would kill her.

"She-she told me to... to bring him... bring Lance-" His lip trembled. "-back." He forced out with a grimace.

_'What the fuck is wrong with you?!'_

_'You're not Keith!'_

Allura stepped forward, looking no less angry than before. Shiro tried to put his human hand on her shoulder, but she brushed it away. Her voice shook as she spoke, but her eyes still blazed, making Keith feel even smaller than before. "And why did you not come to anyone immediately? Did you think it was unimportant?!" She stood directly in front of Keith now, her shoulders back. Hunk's hand was still on his shoulder, but it provided little comfort in the cold control deck, under the heated gaze of the Altean. "Did you not think it would affect us!? What if we were attacked!?" She snapped, her lip curling unpleasantly. Her eyes had a sheen of tears that Keith couldn't miss. "What else was so important that it outweighed the safety of the team?!"

Keith's eyes widened, and his hand twitched, longing to grab his thigh out of reflex as the lacerations flared with remembered pain. His breath hitched. "It-" He gasped, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find words, a lie, an excuse to run. Another string; he could imagine the cuts being ripped open beneath his flight suit, dirtying the inside of his armor. He shuddered. "I-I was-"

He heard Pidge say something- he didn't know if it was to him or not- but he couldn't make out the words- it was like he had water in his ears.

_'Think something up!'_

_'Tell them, idiot.'_

_'This isn't the time, asshole! Sop being selfish!'_

Keith straightened up, trying to quell the voices and stop them from tearing him apart. I-I wanted to think it ov-" Tears jumped suddenly to his eyes without his permission- but since when did they ever ask? He sucked in a breath, his face crumpling. "I-  _fuck- I-_ oh god..." He wrenched himself away from Hunk's grip, backed away, looked around frantically for an escape. His eyes locked on to the door, and he staggered backwards, away from the protests and outstretched hands of his teammates as the room filled with water, threatening to drown him- he turned and ran, ears shutting out the sounds behind him, the shouts, apologies-

Keith sobbed as he ran, feet carrying him as his hands struggled with the clasps of his chest plate. He barely heard the clatter of his armor- his shoulder, back, chest plates- hitting the floor as he ran. They were quickly followed by the arm protection an flight gloves.

Keith slowed to an uncoordinated stop outside of his room, where he clung to the wall as ugly, loud tears twisted his face. "What the hell- is  _wrong with me?!"_ He choked out to the wall. He pressed his forehead to the cold metal and clenched his teeth.  _"Fuck!"_ He screamed, pulling back his fist and slamming it into the solid, unforgiving wall. He cried out as his knuckles screamed in protest, but he only did it again, twice, before he switched to the other hand.  _"You have no fucking right to feel like this! You self-loathing son of a whore! Pull your life together, god damn it!"_ He roared at the blurred shape reflected in the metal wall. He snarled, and he wound up for another punch-

"Keith!"

A warm hand caught his fist, and Keith's resolve and fury disintegrated. He crumbled, knees hitting the floor. A large figure, clad is yellow and white armor, followed, still holding Keith's clenched fists to prevent more potential damage.

Keith looked up, eyes wide and probably bloodshot. "What the fuck happened to me!?" He wailed, ripping his hands free so he could place them on either side of Hunk's neck, desperate for contact, desperate for an answer.

Hunk's pained expression offered no such thing, ad the only thing he could do was gather Keith into his arms, trying to ignore the unusual feeling of bone- Keith had lost a lot of weight when Lance had left, and he'd never fully gained it back.

"What... what's wrong with me, Hunk?" Keith's shaking voice was quieter now, but the worry betrayed by Hunk's furrowed brow didn't lessen as he squeezed the older pilot tighter "Why can't I just- just  _not-_ " Keith cried, chest heaving. "I  _hate_ it!  _I can't stop doing things!_ I make bad decisions, I don't think, I keep fucking up!" He sniffled, and his hands tensed. "Last-last night- what was more import-important than t-telling you all about Blue was- I went and- my-" His body curled in shame. "-I need- my legs- my- I hurt my-" He couldn't finish his sentence, and a slightly hysterical laugh bubbled up in his chest. " _God,_ I'm like a goddamn child! I'm almost 23, and I'm acting like I'm 7!" He giggled, not knowing how to at anymore.

Hunk took in a breath, then grabbed Keith's upper arms carefully. He stood, pulling Keith gently to his feet as well, and he helped him the few steps to his door. "...let's take care of your legs, alright?" He murmured softly.

Keith hiccuped, wiping furiously at his eyes as he nodded. The door slid open, revealing his cluttered room to the Yellow Paladin, who hadn't seen it in at least a month. If he thought anything of the mess, he didn't say, to Keith's relief. He only sat Keith down on his bed, took the razor that lay on his nightstand, and disappeared into the bathroom. He reappeared moments later with the first aid kit, quietly telling Keith to take off the rest of his armor and his flight suit. Keith hesitated, then slowly complied as Hunk began to take off his own armor, leaving him in the black flight suit that allowed for more movement.

Keith sat silently on the bed as Hunk knelt on the floor next to him with the open first aid kit. Keith watched the opposite wall as Hunk worked the blood encrusted bandages off the cuts. Something beeped quietly and steadily in the room. Soft footsteps sounded outside, faltering a little outside Keith's door, before they continued on.

Keith's quiet sniffles and hiccups subsided as he calmed down. The tears dried, leaving his face feeling tight and itchy. He glanced down at his body, which as bare except for his boxers. He knew he should feel more self conscious than he did, but he couldn't bring himself to. Hunk had done this before. Keith inhaled through his nose. "...did you throw it away?" He rasped after a while, as Hunk was cleaning his thighs with a disinfectant.

Hunk's face remained neutral. "Yeah. Are there others I should know about?" Hunk replied, his voice quiet.

Keith closed his eyes, feeling terrible that he wished Hunk hadn't thrown the blade away. "I wish." He admitted.

"Not an option. Sorry, buddy." Hunk said firmly as he taped a bandage securely over a particularly bad cut. Keith opened his eyes and watched as Hunk worked, his fingers steady and his movements certain.

"...why are you so good at this?" Keith finally asked, realizing that he never had.

Hunk paused, then sat back on his heels as his eyes took on a distant quality. "...I had a friend a while back who used to... well," He gestured with one head, then continued to bandage Keith's legs. "you know." He finished.

Keith sighed as Hunk placed the last band-aid-like strip. "...I'm sorry." He said.

Hunk smiled sadly up at Keith, before he stood and sat down on the mattress next to him. "They got better." He said, placing a hand on Keith's shoulder. Keith dropped his head, angry that he'd relapsed, that he  _hadn't_ gotten better. Hunk seemed to catch on. "Hey. Whatever you're thinking, stop it. It's hard. I get it." He insisted, gently shaking Keith until he looked up again. He smiled when Keith finally met his gaze. "But it is possible to get better. You can't forget that."

Keith exhaled quickly, and shrugged. "Maybe..." He mumbled.

Hunk squeezed his shoulder. "Little steps, buddy. It goes a long way." He stood up and stretched. "Now how about we sort through this mess?" He grinned, pointing at the cluttered floor. "You can't exactly walk around the castle naked. He joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Keith felt a little of the pressure lift from his chest, allowing him to stand. He took a deep breath and dragged his hands own his face. "...you have a point." He said, feeling a small smile tug at his lips.

Hunk gave him a thumbs up as Keith dropped his hands to his sides. "Let's start with finding finding a shirt. How's that sound?"

"...sounds great, Hunk."

* * *

The worst part of his occasional breakdowns weren't the moments when they were happening, it was facing the team after the fact.

Keith squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. He was okay now, he could do this. It was just a talk. Allura  _had_ been angry, sure, but she was reasonable, she wouldn't be anymore.

Keith walked forward, and the door to the meeting room slid open quietly. The other Paladins and Coran sat at the long table, talking quietly. They looked up as the door opened, and a hush swept over them. Keith's cheeks burned, but they'd been through this before- just so long as he didn't need to answer any questions.

Without a word, Keith walked to the table and sat down next to Pidge, who gave him a soft smile as the others resumed a quiet, apparently unimportant conversation. Keith assumed that Hunk had informed the others of his situation, and he glanced up gratefully at the Yellow Paladin, who sat across from him. Hunk grinned and playfully kicked Keith's boot, earning a small smile and an eyeroll from the older man.

"Hey, Keith." Pidge greeted.

Keith looked at Pidge and offered the Green Paladin a little half-smile. "Hey, Pidge." He murmured, his voice not raspy for once, since he'd actually gotten enough sleep the previous night. "How are we feeling today?" He asked.

Pidge nodded. "Tired, but overall good."

Keith gave her a thumbs up, and, thankfully, she didn't shoot his question back at him. He didn't feel like letting the others know about the confusing mess of apathy and anxiety boiling in the pit of his stomach. He drummed his fingers on the table. That was a conversation for another day.

Allura's voice cut into Keith's rambling thought, and he blinked at her. "Hm? I'm sorry, Princess, I didn't catch that. He almost winced at how passive aggressive that sounded- he really didn't mean it that way.

Allura tilted her eyebrows in an odd expression of guilt and sympathy. "I was just... we're sorry for making you wait, Shiro was informing me about a little drone mishap on the training deck. Allura explained.

Keith glanced at his older brother to see that there was a small burn mark on his cheek, and the disgruntled look in his eyes still hadn't completely disappeared, even as he smiled warmly at him.

"And now, since we're done with that, we need to discuss the... current events, I guess you could say." Allura went on, folding her fingers awkwardly in front of her on the table.

There was a brief lapse in sound as everyone remembered what had happened. Hunk was the first one to break the silence.

"My question is why would Blue shut Allura out now? It's not like-" Hunk stopped, then continued without hesitation, as if he'd made up his mind about something. "-It's not like Lance let yesterday- it's been almost two years now, and it had been months since he'd piloted Red  _or_ Blue when he left... what's different now?" He asked.

"I can't imagine that Allura did anything to upset Blue..." Shiro mused, placing his chin on the backs of his hands. "And anyways, it's not like Blue is one to get angry and hold a grudge."

"She also wouldn't put the team in danger like this- with our situation the way it is, we can't form Voltron. I know that she and Lance had a strong connection, but..." Keith trailed off, not liking how all eyes were now trained on him. Losing his confidence, he shrugged and looked down at his hands. "Just-just thinking out loud... but we  _are_ vulnerable like this." He finished quickly.

Pidge picked up where he left off. "Maybe she just feels like we're stronger when Lane is the Blue Paladin? No offense, Allura." Pidge added quickly. Hurt showed in Allura's eyes, but she waved Pidge off, and the youngest Paladin continued. "Or... I know it's a stretch, but... maybe a virus Or a malfunction of some kind, which is causing her to over look dangerous probabilities?" Pidge offered, her voice unsure.

"For the Lions to malfunction or pick up a virus of any sort would be very rare...so... what if there is no danger?" Coran interjected. Upon receiving several confused and disbelieving stares, he continued. "No large danger, anyways- it's been very quiet lately." He said, picking up a tablet from the table and opening a holographic map. "We have only fought when we've located a supply or prisoner ship and sought them out- recent battles have severely depleted their resources in terms of ships and bases, and with the aid from the Blade of Marmora and Matt's rebels, the attacks  _against_ us have all but stopped." He said, pointing to the few spots on the map where recent battles had taken place, before he closed the map and looked up at them. "The Lions were built with a literally otherworldly material, about which not much is known- they became sentient without the use of programming, they developed personalities, and it is very likely- due to Keith's description of the specific dates of arrival in the cave where the Blue Lion was found- that they have the ability to see and perceive what we cannot." Coran said, pulling his moustache. "In short, perhaps the Blue Lion is aware of the circumstances, and knows that we are not in immediate danger. That leaves us free to do what we must."

Silence again. Keith regarded the other Paladins, and noticed they all shared the same hesitant expression. After a moment, as if in a silent agreement, Keith and the other Paladins looked to Shiro to ask the question. "What we must?" He repeated quietly.

Coran gazed at them, his blue eyes piercing. "If the Blue Lion refuses to open up to Allura, and we know who she wants to pilot her, then there is only one option; we don't know how much time we have, and we cannot wait around and stay open like this- like Keith said, we're vulnerable." Coran took in a deep breath. "We have to bring Lance back." He said firmly.

The air grew heavy and thick. They knew they should be happy, but there were so many questions. Keith closed his eyes. Lance had made it home, he'd made it back to his family, why would he leave? Was he even still alive? Did he reach Earth? If he had, had the Galaxy Garrison gotten a hold of him? The last few months he'd been on the Castleship, they hadn't exactly had time to be with him, what, with the constant barrage of attacks and coalition work-

"Would he even want to come back?" Pidge whispered the question that was on everyone's minds.

Keith clenched his fists. He wanted so badly to disagree with Pidge, but she had a point. Lance didn't deserve them, the people who had pretty much abandoned him after he wasn't able to pilot a Lion-

"Of course he will." Hunk broke into Keith's darkening thoughts, and the black haired man looked up at the Yellow Paladin. Hunk stood, gesturing with his arms like he usually did. "Lance wouldn't turn us away, I know it- we're his friends. Not only that, he wouldn't let the universe be in danger like this. He'll come back, he will..." Hunk began to tear up, and he cleared his throat. "Those in favor of mission 'Recover Lance', raise your hand." He said, lifting his hand up.

Coran's hand went up, followed slowly by Allura and Pidge. Shiro was next, and Keith sighed.

 _'I have to face him eventually.'_ He thought, rubbing his wrists. He looked at the arm guards he now wore beneath his gloves- the tough fabric covered his forearms, and the ugly scars that marred them. He sighed, then raised his hand.

The group simultaneously put their hands down, and they watched each other quietly for a moment.

Pidge huffed. "Well then... pack your swim suits, I guess... we're going to Cuba."

* * *

Hey, y'all! Sorry I've been gone, my computer blue screened, and I lost everything... all my art, all my writing, all my shit. I'm still upset, to be honest, haha... but I just got a new computer, so hey, new year new me? Meh... anyways, sorry if there are any mistakes, I'll fix them as I find them, but my new keyboard is tiny as shit, and my hands are too big for it, so mistakes are going to be abundant until I get used to it, haha.... anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter, sorry if the characters are a little ooc, there are reasons for it, but I hope you had great holidays!

Love y'all!

 


	11. Had Enough?

“Angelo, help me haul this up?

“Ah, sure, Miguel.”

Lance’s muscles strained as he pulled on the nets, hauling the heavy, flopping catch onto the deck of the fishing boat so they could sort through the catch. Lance checked to make sure his gloves were properly on- he didn’t want to be bitten by anything- and proceeded to kneel down and pull the nets away from the catch.

Miguel watched him. “...you’ve changed, Angelo.” He said, the statement so out of the blue that it made Lance look up, completely caught off guard.

Lance laughed, and continued to search through the writhing mass of fish. “Odd thing to bring up- ah, here’s a cod.” He said, pulling a good sized fish towards him by the tail, almost getting himself slapped across the chest.

Miguel gestured to the side of the boat. “Toss her back, then.” Lance huffed as the lifted the large fish and threw it over the side of the boat- the fish hit the water with a splash, and disappeared into the dark blue of the open ocean, and Lance returned to the pile. “And it was just an observation. I’m not sure what it is…” Miguel scratched at his stubble through his glove. “...redder, maybe?”

Lance snorted and tossed a couple small fish overboard. “It’s called a sunburn. We live in the Caribbean, Miguel.” Lance teased.

Miguel shrugged. “You should wear sunscreen, Angelo; just because you’re not a _yuma_ doesn’t mean you’re safe.”

Lance huffed and took a moment to look out at the water- it was beautiful. There were no clouds in the sky, and the sun beat down on the waves, making the water glimmer as it rocked the fishing boat and sent sea spray into the air. “I _do_ wear it; but, in case you haven’t noticed, we’re both soaking wet.”

Miguel opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by his girlfriend, Aleja, who came up behind Lance and made him jump as she scolded them.

“Ey, meatheads, are you gonna chat, or are you gonna put this fish in the coolers? It’s cooking out here.” She muttered, taking a large tuna and placing it into one of the massive coolers they had on the deck. “If they spoil, I’m gonna make you eat them.” She threatened, ruffling Miguel’s hair as she made her way to the bow and making him groan.

“Gross.” He muttered as they hurried to put the fish into the coolers.

Lance shrugged. “I mean, we’re gonna smell like fish anyways.” He said.

“It’s still gross. You’d think you’d get used to it.” Miguel complained.

“Most people do.” Lance jabbed, shooting his tall, brown-skinned companion a cheeky smirk.

“Don’t make me throw a fish at you.” Miguel warned, picking up a fish, before frowning at it. “Too small, sorry, _pescado._ ” He muttered to himself, tossing the (hopefully still alive) fish into the sea. “Hey, your brother’s coming tomorrow, isn’t he? With your nephews?” He asked suddenly.

Lance paused, heart clenching at the thought. “Y-yeah… what made you think of them; the fish?” He asked incredulously.

Miguel chuckled and closed one of the full coolers. “The way you talk about them, they’re in the water enough to be classified at guppies.” He joked.

Lance laughed. “I s’pose.” He replied, grinning at the thought of his three nephews, two of which were old enough to be swimming and hyperactive balls of energy… it made having the family get togethers bearable.

“Hey, Angelo, what’s wrong?” Miguel asked, sounding concerned.

Lance frowned and filled up one of the coolers, packing the ice gently around the fish. “...Alexandro is coming over too, not just Luis and Veronica, and there's no way Marco would be able to make it here…” Lance murmured, continuing to pick up the remaining fish as he spoke.

“Is he still giving you hell?” Miguel asked softly.

Lance sighed, then gave a resigned laugh. “He’s not the type to let go of shit, y’know?” He said, shrugging. “He seems to think-the way he talks about it- that I’m still, ah…” Lance rubbed at his nose, feeling it start to itch, and his senses were flooded with the pungent scent of fish and salt. “...you know. He thinks I was doing it just for the hell of it.”

Miguel’s gaze softened. “He doesn’t believe it was because of… of the war flashbacks?” He pressed, his voice dropping as he tried- yet again, as everyone subtly did- to get Lance to open up, or to admit he was in the war.

Lance smiled bitterly. Sure, he was in a war, but not the war there on Earth… but again, better to let the observers assume, rather than let his secret out. “...you could call them that, yeah.” Lance hummed, putting the last of the fish into a coolers. He felt Miguel place his hand on his shoulder, and Lance scoffed quietly as he remembered Shiro doing the same thing once or twice. “Angelo, my brother was in the war, if you need to talk to-”

“Hey, Angelo, are you stealing my boyfriend?” Aleja called from her seat by the motor. She grinned as they looked up, and Lance smiled back, thankful for the interruption. Aleja had taken her gloves off, and she swept the long, black hair of the unshaved half of her head back behind her ear. “Stow those nets, boys, we’ve got a good haul for today, and I think the wind’s gonna really pick up soon.” She said, scratching her cheek. “We’re gonna head back now, sound good?” She asked.

Lance exchanged a glance with Miguel, and they nodded. Lance gave Aleja a thumbs up. “We’re good with that! It’s too hot anyways, and I need a shower.” Lance joked. He began to take his gloves off and started towards the coolers to drag them to the shaded area below deck. Miguel grabbed Lance’s shoulder, and Lance flinched.

Angelo, really, I think he could-”

Lance held up his hand to silence Miguel then smiled at him to let him know that he wasn’t mad. “Thanks, Miguel, but I’m okay. I promise to talk to you if I ever change my mind, okay?” He said. _‘I never will, but whatever.’_

Miguel sighed, then patted Lance’s arm. “Alright, _compa_ _ñero._ Long as you know you have people.” He said, giving up.

Lance laughed and gently taped his fist against Miguel’s bicep (not feeling totally ashamed for enjoying it), then turned away. “I’ll deal with people later- let’s get these coolers in the shade, yeah?” He said bending his knees to pick up a heavy cooler without completely throwing out his back.

Miguel scoffed, and mirrored Lance’s actions. “You got it, _amigo_.”

* * *

Three hours and a thorough shower later, Lance found himself standing outside his apartment, phone in hand, ready to head out to meet Decarlos and Desiderio for dinner at a nearby grill- he had promised them dinner, after all.

Lance looked down at himself, wondering vaguely if he looked presentable- he worse a pair of pale tan slacks, a light blue polo shirt, and his only nice shoes- a pair of bright teal and white espadrilles. Of course, he was more worried that even the shower (and before that, Riel had found it fit to push him off the boat and into the water) hadn’t gotten rid of the smell of fish… he was wearing a nice cologne that his father had gotten him for his 22nd birthday.

Lance blinked. 22. He was 22 years old. He’d been back on Earth for almost two years. He tucked his phone into his pocket and regarded his hands. Long, slender, tan fingers, large palms and ragged fingernails- despite all the scrs on the rest of his body, during his time as a Palad- a pilot, his hands had been covered by protective gloves, and his hands were not in a great place for enemies to easily hit-

No, the scars came from a year and almost 5 months of working on the docks- simple lacerations, blisters and burns from accidentally touching a hot engine, a particularly nasty, raised scar from when he’d gotten a fish hook caught just below his right thumb- now that was painful.

“Ey, socio! You coming, or what?!”

The call made Lance look down off the balcony at the street, where Decarlos and Desiderio stood, grinning at him.

Lance’s face broke into a much needed smile. “I got the money, right? What are you gonna do without me?” He said, walking to the metal stairs and trotting down the steps to meet them.

Desiderio rolled his eyes. “Decarlos probably has his wallet hidden in his pants, knowing him-”

“Hey! I do not!”

“So. Make sure he doesn’t manage to use it, alright, Angel?” Desiderio winked at Decarlos, which earned him a shove from the 19 year old cook.

Decarlos scowled playfully at Lance, only one eye (the unscarred one) narrowing significantly. “Let’s just go; I’m hungry, and I’m sure Angelo hasn’t eaten properly today.” He said pointedly.

Lance scoffed and shook his head as the trio began to walk down the sidewalk, towards the center of the town that had sprung up amongst what had been the bombed out ruins of what used to be a tourist resort. “No, Aleja was kind enough to make me and Miguel sandwiches.” He shuddered for effect, In reality, they hadn’t been terrible this time- only marginally bad.

Desiderio groaned. “How does Miguel put up with that cooking? You’d think he’d be begging Decarlos to tutor her already.” He teased.

Decarlos laughed quietly. “He loves her. It makes the food better.” He joked.

Lance jumped on the opportunity when he saw it. “Yeah, why do you think Decarlos finds your food edible?” He asked quietly, a smirk on his face. Honestly, Desiderio’s cooking was pretty good-but he wasn’t about to pass about to pass up a chance to tease them.

“Angelo!” Decarlos snapped, cheeks furiously red.

Desiderio merely raised an eyebrow. “My cooking is great, and you know it.” He shot back easily.

Lance snickered. “ ** _Whatever, gaybirds_**.” He mumbled, just loud enough for Desiderio and Decarlos to hear.

“ _ **Bi Bitch.**_ ” Desiderio quipped back in heavily accented English.

“You two, please!” Decarlos was the best with English out of the pair, and he had no trouble understanding Lance’s jibe.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop…” Lance trailed off, still chuckling as they fell into a comfortable silence, walking down the sidewalk in the dimly lit streets of Varadero. “.. _.Homono- ow!_ ”

* * *

She was definitely eyeing him.

Lance glanced at the woman, interested, as Desiderio and Decarlos talked over their food.

Short, maybe 5’3’’, petite buld, clothed in a tight fitting white dress that contrasted her wavy, dark brown hair that fell to her breast. She smiled at him, then turned away.

Lance smirked to himself, and reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone and standing up.

Decarlos looked at him and huffed in amusement. “Uh oh, guapo’s seen a lady.” He teased, his manner loosened by two coronas and the easy, light hearted atmosphere of the grill.

Lance scoffed and gestured to the door. “I’m just giving my mamá a call; it’s getting late.”

Desiderio snorted and gently shoved Decarlos from across the table. “Yeah, so señorita quatorze doesn’t hear him calling his mami before he bed-slams her.” He drawled, grinning. Decarlos giggled into his wrist.

Lance shook his head. “I do not “bed-slam” people, as you so articulately put it.” He began to dial his home’s number as he backed away towards the door. “I treat them right.” He stuck out his tongue at his friends, then hit call and slipped outside, where it was quieter.

Uno.

Do-

“It’s my little starboy.” Lance could hear the teasing smile in her voice. “How are you, _mijo_? How was your day?”

Lance smiled, and looked up at the overcast sky. ‘Thank god for clouds.’ “It was good, _mamá_. I’m at dinner with Desi and Decarl-”

You’re at dinner and you’re on the phone?! _Mijo_! Go back to your friends!” Angela scolded, sounding appalled.

Lance grinned. “Hold on, mamá, I have something important to tell you-” he laughed.

“What? Are you okay?” Angela asked, suddenly sounding worried.

Lance drummed his fingers against his thigh. “... _te amo, mamá._ ” He chuckled. Angela groaned, and he continued. “- _y papá_. Tell him for me, please?” He finished.

Angela sighed. “You give me heart attacks… I’ll tell him, _mijo_. _Te amo_. Now go back to your friends.” She said.

Lance blew a cheeky kiss through the phone. “Alright. Night, mamá.”

“Goodnight, _mijo_.” with a laugh, she hung up

Lance tucked his phone away, after turning it to silent. He looked up.

The clouds had cleared, for the most part, but the lights of the town drowned out some of the stars’ brilliance. He could see enough though.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He heard the waves crashing faintly offshore, smelled the salt and the food and smoke from the grill.

He could almost feel his gloved hands gripping the joysticks of a spacecraft, the hyperactive chattering in his head satisfied by the ever-shifting, complicated holographic maps and information. He imagined himself whooping in joy as he shot through the open air of Arus- darting past a light years tall nebula, listening to his teammates over the comms-

Suddenly his helmet was too tight. He couldn’t breathe. He watched a Galra cruiser explode- all those lives lost among the shrill shriek of engines combusting, sending decimated metal and what he assumed were countless bodies spinning into open space-

Lance ripped his eyes from the sky and went back to the open door of the grill, pulling back the gauzy, grease stained curtain to enter the dimly lit restaurant. He caught Desiderio’s eye and winked. Desiderio grinned an rolled his eyes as Lance wove through the tabs to the crowded bar area, where the woman from before stood, sipping what could have been a mixture of cranberry juice and soda or vodka.

“ _Buenas noches, Cariño.”_ She said, smiling cheekily at him over the rim of her glass (definitely soda water, not vodka, Lance noticed).

Lance returned the smile. “ _Tienes swing, mami._ ” He purred, quirking an eyebrow and placing a hand on the counter next to her. “Just an observation… can I ask for your name?”

The woman nursed her drink and hummed teasingly. “....Maya. And you?” She said, setting her glass on the counter and gesturing to him, all the while carefully jutting her hip out into her open, small palm. “Who’s the pretty man I have the honor of talking to tonight?” She joked, her words light like spun sugar.

She was flirty- Lance liked that. This could go somewhere, even if it was just for the night.

“The name’s-

.

.

.

_“Angelo!”_

Lance shuddered, clenching his teeth, before he exhaled sharply, a drop of sweat tracing it’s way down his heat-flushed jaw. Maya’s head collapsed back onto his pillows, the sheets a mess and the blankets askew. Maya’s warm brown eyes glinted, half open and dazed, in the gold lamp light as she caught her breath, smiling loosely.

Lance lay down, panting, at her side. He gently turned her face toward his and kissed her, but the soft moment didn’t last long, since neither of them had fully regained their breath. He closed his eyes, his hand on Maya’s abdomen as the rise and fall of their chests slowed and evened out. He sighed contentedly.

After a quiet moment, broken only by the increasingly steady breaths, Lance sat up on the edge of the bed, tidying himself a little and tossing the spent contraceptive into the bin by his bed. He ran his fingers through his hair in an unmotivated attempt to tame the wild mess of brown locks.

He felt the bed shift, and a pair of warm hands ghosted over the mottle white and red burn scars that covered his back. He tensed, but he was prepared enough for it that he didn’t flinch or worse- lash out.

“So many scars, _Cariño....”_ She murmured sleepily, draping herself on his back and wrapping her arms over his shoulders. Her breasts pressed against the twisted, ridged skin of his back and her long brown hair tickled his forearm. “You’ve had quite the life, hm…?” She sounded like she was dozing off, and Lance chuckled. He leaned down and reclaimed his boxers from the wooden floor, pulling them on. Maya sat back on the bed as he stood and turned around to face her.

“No one’s perfect… except for maybe you.” He flirted, winking at her.

Maya took his hand and pulled him toward her, so he was on his knees on the bed in front of her. She smelled like dusty rose incense and Lance imagined she was the type of girl to read a new book every week, judging from those deep brown eyes that now blinked so slowly at him. “No one is… I'm so glad; life wouldn’t be nearly as exciting, hm?” She giggled, then fell back on the bed, laying exposed and beautifully unashamed before him. “You’re certainly not dull.” She teased, tugging lazily at his fingers.

Lance’s heart panged, and he swallowed. Too open- the haze of pleasure was making him too easy to read- he felt like one of the emotional fiction novels he was now sure Maya liked to read. And Maya was smart, he could tell that much.

Pale tan skin and indigo eyes flashed in his mind.

The last time he’d fallen in love with an intelligent beauty, he got hurt… badly.

Lance smiled and lay beside her. His foot fumbled with his white sheets for a moment, before he finally pulled it up to his hand. He slid it over the two of them and released a long, slow breath. Maya seemed to have read the mood and had fallen into a comfortable silence beside him.

He could enjoy not being alone for a night, despite his obvious deep-set attachment to a man he could never even hope to have…. Even if he still did hope. He hummed quietly, finding himself wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her small body close. “Maybe not…” he drawled, closing his eyes. There was a soft moment of near-silence, before Maya shifted in the bed, sitting up. Lance heard a click, and even with his eyes closed, he could see the yellow light vanish, leaving them in the silky darkness of Lance’s bedroom. Maya settled herself with a sigh against his chest, her breath feathering his neck and her thumb tracing small circles on his left pectoral.

The high, cloudy feeling of being pulled into a deep sleep prevented his mind from wandering, and he smiled into the darkness.

_‘Life certainly had been exciting.’_

He wondered how much longer he could continue to convince himself that he’d had enough.

 

* * *

I don't think I need to translate the stuff like  _pescado_ and  _te amo._

 _Tienes swing-_ A Cuban phrase that means, "you've got flavor". It's a come on, haha.

 _Homono-_ This was me making a terrible pun that I should really just take out- He took the word "hermano" and mixed it with "homo" to be a putz.

 

And I've decided that when the dialogue is in _Bold Italics_ it's in English.

.

.

.

Sorry I've been gone so long! My computer is a stupid butt-head with this tiny ass keyboard, and I have to get used to it.... oh well. 

I hope you like this chapter!

Sorry for any mistakes, I'll go back and fix things eventually.

 


	12. Let's Go

“...This is stupid.”

Keith and Hunk looked up at Pidge, who sat cross-legged on Keith’s bed with a computer in her lap. She shut the lid and took off her glasses so she could pinch the bridge of her nose. “I mean- I get at we need to be as careful as possible, and we have to contact the rebel forces ad the Blade to let them know our situation, but still- time is ticking!” She complained, putting her computer on the bed beside her.

Hunk looked at his hands, inspecting the small, watch-like device he’d been tinkering with. He sighed, and shuffled a little where he sat on the floor, his back against the bed frame. “Usually, I’d disagree about slacking on safety, but you’re right.” Hunk said, using an (in Keith’s opinion) impossibly tiny screwdriver to place an equally tiny screw back into its place. “I mean- we contacted the Blade- that should be enough cover, right? They can look after everything while we’re gone. It’s already been-what, almost three months?” He asked, looking to Pidge.

_ ‘Two months and nineteen days.’  _ Keith thought to himself. He couldn’t say that out loud, though, they’d only just started to stop worrying about him. “It’s been too long- we’re vulnerable, and the more time we waste, the less time we have to get Lance back. Do we even have a plan?” He asked instead, curling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around his legs. His eyes lingered on the arm guards on his forearms- they were thick, meant to block the weaker blade strikes. Black, and running from his elbow to just under his gloves, they hid everything that they needed to- he’d picked them up at the space mall several months before, when he’d been feeling particularly self-conscious about the scars, and it looked like they were going to prove themselves useful.

That is, if they ever ended up going back to Earth.

“This feels like an awful thing to suggest, but…” Pidge trailed off, then sighed, leaning back against the wall. “...You don’t think Allura is stalling, do you?” She murmured, her voice dropping.

Keith looked around at Pidge, then at Hunk, who was looking at his hands again. Keith shuffled his feet. “I mean… I don’t know. If she is, she has to stop- it’s costing us time we don’t have.” He rasped, not wanting to sound harsh, but wanting to be blunt all the same.

Hunk hummed awkwardly. “Well, I mean, think of it this way- for months, she finally gets to follow in her father’s footsteps, and then suddenly, she’s just shut out.” He reasoned.

“Yeah? Who else do we know who had that happen?” Keith asked, raising an eyebrow as the other two looked at the ground in response to the rhetorical question. Keith huffed and continued. “Yeah; Lance.  _ Twice.”  _ He said. His heart clenched at the thought of the blue eyed Paladin with the bright, cheeky smile, and a flicker of anger- not directed at any particular person-rose in his chest.

“Yeah, and I think Lance got to Earth faster than we’re gonna be able to.” Pidge snorted, then frowned and looked up from her clipped fingernails at the other two. “Too soon?” She asked sheepishly.

Hunk scoffed. “...No. It was kinda funny.” He mumbled, rolling his eyes with a slightly exasperated grin on his face.

“Keith?” Pidge checked, her voice soft with guilt.

Keith allowed himself a small smirk. Maybe it was because here was a good possibility of seeing Lance again, or maybe he was just tired, but the light-hearted quip directed at the absent former-Paladin didn’t hurt as much as it normally would. “...as much as I hate to admit it, here I am, smiling.” He confessed, picking innocently at his rough cuticles. He’d taken to biting his nails when he got stressed- maybe it was time to stop.

Pidge snickered. “It’s a good look for you, you should wear it more often.” She teased, laying on her back and leaning over the edge of the bed.

“Oh, shut it, Pidgeon.”

Hunk opened his mouth-either to tell them off or to join in (it was hard to predict with Hunk)-just as Coran’s voice called effortlessly through the Castleship’s intercom.

_ “If all the Paladins could hustle down here to the control deck, we have some news.”  _ His voice chipper as always- although, it had perked up considerably since the possibility of bringing Lance back had arisen.

Pidge smirked as she stood, adjusting her glasses. “I love the way he says ‘deck’” She chuckled, watching the now-silent intercom speaker.

“Pidge…” Hunk warned playfully as he and Keith got to their feet.

“Di-eck.” She repeated in an almost spot on imitation of Coran’s Australian-esque accent.

“Pidge!”

“What?!”

Keith followed the squabbling pair down the hall towards the Control Deck- it wasn’t a long walk, only about five minutes from the bedrooms to the Deck- and crossed his arms, trying to block out the thoughts that cluttered his mind.

_ Allura was re-accepted by the Blue Lion! _

_ We won’t have to go back for Lance. _

_ Blue found a new Paladin! _

Keith’s heart fluttered nervously as the three of them arrived at the Control Deck, where Shiro, Allura, and Coran all stood, waiting for them. Keith looked at Shiro, trying to silently ask him several questions at once.

Shiro met his gaze, took in Keith’s (slightly panicked) expression, then smiled reassuringly. Keith calmed down, his heart rate returning to normal.  _ ‘Thank god.’  _ He thought, relieved.

Coran stepped forward, his eyes almost shining. “I’m happy to inform you that we have succeeded in contacting the rebels- oh, Pidge, Matt says he’s jealous, he told me to tell you.” Coran added, and Pidge snickered. “-and we’ve told them what we’re doing. They’ve agreed to watch over and protect the freed planets while we are away, while the Blade will be sending aid in watching over the Castleship.”

Hunk held up his hands. “Okay, so wait- what’s the plan? Are we leaving the Castleship in space?” Hunk asked.

“No, Hunk, we’re going to land an entire alien Castle spaceship in Times Square Memorial.”  Pidge scoffed.

Allura-who had been looking rather somber- finally spoke. “The plan is to orbit a small planet in the Kuiper Belt- the Castleship can easily hide itself from your planet’s scanners and radar. The Blade will have a vessel waiting just outside the Kuiper BElt, ready to alert us to any oncoming objects, Galra ships or otherwise.” She said.

Keith cocked his head. How will we be able to get down to Earth’s surface without being seen?” He asked, uncrossing his arms.

“ We have a tentative plan for that.” Shiro broke in, coming forward to stand with the other Paladins. “We take the Green Lion- it’ll be a tighter fit than we’re used to, but it’s fast, and it’s cloaking ability will prove useful.” He explained. “The Lions are fast enough to bring us from the inner edge of the Kuiper Belt to Earth in around a day and a half- we’ll time it all so that we will be entering Earth’s atmosphere around Cuba at night, but we will land several miles offshore- the Green Lion will be able to bypass Earth’s scanners, just like the Castleship.”

“Then what? We swim to Cuba?” Hunk asked skeptically.

“In a sense!” Coran interjected cheerfully. “You will land the Green Lion underwater. Your Paladin armor will allow you to propel yourself from the Lion to the shore. Once there, find an isolated area, and change from your armor into your casual clothing.” He explained.

Pidge raised an eyebrow. “Our soaking wet clothes?” She asked.

“Of course not, Pidge. We will equip you with waterproof satchels, large enough to carry your clothes- we can’t help you with the armor, though… you may have to hide it, somehow.” Allura said apologetically.

“There’s also the issue of money- even if we brought some with us from Earth, it probably wouldn’t be enough to pay for transport or housing.” Keith pointed out.

Hunk shook his head. “We might not need it- after the worst part of the war, Cuba adopted a pretty gracious attitude towards refugees, and a lot of the habitable bombed-out buildings became free shelters… at least, that’s what Lance told me, back in the Garrison, and then when I went there, it seemed true enough.” He said thoughtfully.

Shiro shrugged. “Not much can change in three years-usually. It’s probably still like that.” He smiled. “And hey- if we find Lance fast enough, we probably won’t have to worry about money for very long.” He said hopefully.

Keith hummed in half-hearted agreement, and he felt Shiro’s human hand on his shoulder. His racing thoughts slowed enough for him to close his eyes and gather himself. “So… when do we leave?” Keith asked the oddly quiet room, opening his eyes to watch his teammate’s reactions.

Coran was busy looking at a tablet screen, but he answered. “All that’s left to do is to make sure our trajectories are in order, the defense systems are working, and work out the kinks, then we’ll be good to go.” He said, tapping away at his screen.

“How long do you suppose that will take?” Allura asked, coming out of her silence.

Coran took a moment, looking up as he thought. “Let’s see… oh, maybe a week? A week and a half at most. Then we’ll be set.” He replied, resuming whatever he’d been doing.

Keith’s heart thumped.  _ ‘A week and a half?’ _

“So-so we’ll be back home in about a week?” Hunk breathed, sounding a little stunned.

“More like another month, unfortunately. We can’t exactly wormhole straight into the Kuiper Belt- we’re going to wormhole to the outer edge, then navigate through to our destination- that will take us around a week on it’s own. Then, from there, it’s another 5 to 6 days from there to the  _ inner  _ edge of the Belt, and we tentatively know the rest from there.” Shiro cut in.

Hunk nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah… yeah, I guess that makes more sense, doesn’t it?” He muttered sheepishly.

Shiro patted Hunk’s arm. “You’re just excited to see home- we all are, I think.” He said, his eyes flickering briefly to Keith, who pretended not to notice.

Keith didn’t know how much he missed Earth… there was so much to see out in space, so many more interesting things-

But there was something precious to him back on Earth.

Keith almost shivered. Had he really let himself become that attached? He thought he’d learned his lesson about that- apparently he hadn’t.

At least he wasn’t totally alone this time.

“Keith? You alright, dude?” Pidge asked quietly, breaking into Keith’s thoughts. The others were discussing trajectories and plans and the like, but Pidge had remained standing beside Keith.

Keith took a deep breath. “...I will be. I’m just glad we’re not idling anymore.” He responded honestly.

Pidge smiled. “Me too. I’m gonna see if I can’t speed this up.” She said, walking towards the group. “I miss Lance too much to waste more time.” She murmured quietly, just loud enough for him to hear. Maybe it wasn’t meant for his ears, but he caught it all the same.

Keith exhaled.  _ ‘Me too, Pidge.’  _ He thought, rubbing his forefinger and thumb together anxiously.  _ ‘Me too.’ _

 

* * *

 

His heart pounded.

He held his shirt, knuckles white with tension.

_ ‘Just calm down.’ _

“Keith?” Keith took in a deep breath at the sound of the familiar voice and straightened from his position- bent at the waist, forehead against the wall, watching the metal floor with eyes blurred from lack of proper sleep. “Are you coming down to the control deck to be with us?” Shiro asked as Keith turned around to face him. “Are you okay, Keith?” He murmured, placing a hand on his younger brother’s shoulder. “You look a little out of it.”

Keith sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He licked his lips, tasting the sharply bitter, admittedly disgusting taste of Nunvill left on his mouth. “Just… just anxious.” He replied softly.

Shiro patted his shoulder. “Anything in particular?” He pried, eye gentle and patient, as per usual.

Keith slumped against the wall, looking at his covered forearms. “How… do I explain them? What will he do?” He wondered, voice grating against his throat. His mind was buzzing softly, too preoccupied to produce tears, so he continued on steadily. “Will he hate me?” Keith clenched his fists. “What if he thinks I’m-like-a pussy, or something? What if he find out about…” He touched his chest absentmindedly, then let his hands from to his sides. “...you know… what if he thinks I’m disgusting?” He whispered awkwardly. Even if he’d told Shiro about his sexuality nearly two years before, he didn’t bring it up much, and he always felt… odd… about it.

Shiro scoffed sadly, a small smile on his face, and pulled Keith into a hug, holding him tight. Keith resisted the childlike urge to bury his face into his brother’s shoulder, and instead held onto the back of Shiro’s shirt. His heart unclenched a bit, and he exhaled slowly, closing his eyes in comfort.

“If we find Lance and he hates you or condemns you for  _ any  _ part of you, we’ll have found the wrong guy.” He assured the black haired man. Keith relaxed a little, and Shiro pulled away, that sad smile still on his lips. “Let’s get you some food on the way to the Control Deck- you’re gonna throw up if all you have in your stomach is that nasty space juice.” Shiro teased, gently flicking Keith’s forehead.

Keith scoffed, and a little grin pulled at his face as he rubbed his forehead. “Don’t make it sound as if you just  _ knew… _ I’ll bet you 20 bucks you  _ saw _ me.” He shoved Shiro teasingly, and Shiro snorted.

“Yeah, I did.” He pushed Keith forward, down the hall towards the kitchen. “C’mon. Let’s go.” He smiled at Keith over his shoulder as he passed him. “The whole team’s waiting.”

Keith took in a deep breath.

_ ‘The whole team’s waiting.’ _

Lance’s grinning face lit up Keith’s mind, spreading the warm, buzzing feeling to his chest and fingertips.

Keith smiled.

“Let’s go.”

* * *

Hey, I'm back. My computer/typing system still sucks, but have two more chapters finished... The problem is typing them.

Thought I'd go over something; I keep mentioning a war in this... this is just me trying to come up with some reasons for why there is a need for fighter pilots in VLD's world, and it also helps with constructing my plot, haha... anyways, it'll build more about this world, 'cause it takes place in the future, and I wanted to make it interesting.

Also, I have an Instagram with my art and stuff... I don't have a lot, but still! If you want to send me art for this fanfic, I really wanna see it... not that this is a very popular fanfic, but still. My name is 'click_bait_klance' (I wasn't feeling too creative, lol)

Anyways, hope you liked this chapter, even if it wasn't that interesting! Have a great week, until next time! <3

 


	13. Una Cosa

“Tío!”

Lance huffed as two small figures barreled towards him, one of them jumping up trustingly. He caught his oldest nephew in his arms and hugged him, laughing. “Hey there, _corazon! Que bola?”_ He ruffled the young child’s dark brown hair, then beamed down at the younger nephew, who clung to Lance's leg with a shy grin on his face.

“Lance.” A stern voice said as a tall, well-built man entered the room. “Careful with your tío.” The man chastised gently, placing a large hand on his hip.

Little-Lance (as Lance liked to call him) grinned cheekily and stuck his tongue out at his father. “I should be careful with _you!”_ He teased, wiggling out of Lance's arms.

Lance ‘Oohh’ed jokingly as he let the five year old boy go. He ran off, and after he gave Lance a hug, his twin- Eterio- took off after him, disappearing into the house, probably to find Veronica. Lance smiled fondly after them, then walked over to his older brother, who hugged him. “Hey, Luis. It's been a while.” He said, pulling back with a grin.

Luis smiled and clapped his hand on Lance's shoulder. “It’s only been two months, _hermano.”_ He said, laughing.

Lance shrugged. “Any time is too long for me, you know that.” He chuckled, then looked around-it had been a while since  he'd been home, about three weeks, due to him working overtime… it was good to be back in the large, spacious, welcoming house for a while. “So, where's Alyssa? And the baby? I haven't seen him in so long!” He cheered, changing the subject.

Luis gestured to the door of the living room. “She's in the living room with mamá and papá, but she'll be back in a minute.” He replied, placing a hand on Lance's back and steering him toward the living room. “I'm gonna go help them out, why don't you go on in? Amanda is here too.” He said, patting Lance’s shoulder, before he too left the mudroom to find his wife.

Lance paused, then hurried to slip his feet out of his sandals. He heard several voices talking and laughing over each other in the living room as he entered, and his heart warmed at the thought of his family, together… with him-

“Lance!”

“Hello, Lance.”

Lance smiled briefly at his older sister, Veronica, and her girlfriend, Amanda, but his gaze was quickly drawn to his brother, who stood between him and Luis in age and who sat, stretched out and comfortable, on the second couch.

Lance watched him carefully as a tense silence began to permeate the living room. “Alexandro... how are you?” He asked quietly, not quite meeting his brother's deep brown eyes.

Alexandro raised his eyebrows. “Whoa, what's with the formalities, little brother? What have I done this time?” He stood from his seat and held out his long arms. Lance was once again reminded how much he hated the fact that he and Alexandro looked very similar- while Alex had brown eyes and his father's black hair, he was just a bit shorter, with a long, lanky frame that gave away exactly who he was related to, if he and Lance ever found themselves in the same room at the same time… which was a rare occurrence.

“C'mon, _hermano menor,_ let's keep it civil tonight, yeah?” Alex said, drawing Lance into a hug, whether Lance wanted one or not. “You know how mamá hates it when you pick fights.” He laughed quietly, patting his younger brother's shoulder as he draw back.

Lance clenched his teeth, biting back a scathing retort that he _knew_ Alex was trying for. “Sounds good to me, Alex. I'm in a good mood today.” He replied easily, before turning abruptly to his sister and her redheaded partner. “ _Dios,_ Veronica, Amanda, I feel like I haven't seen you in years!” He laughed, forcing his heart to relax its painful grip on his chest. He sat down next to Veronica and embraced her, before leaning over her to do the same with Amanda.

Veronica chuckled and took Lance's hand, squeezing it. “How've you been, Lancey-Lance?”

Lance placed a dramatic hand on his chest. “Lancey-Lance has been decent… I've been working a lot, and I've been a little tight on money, but I can't really complain.” He said, leaning back into the couch with a smile.

Alex broke into the conversation then, much to Lance's chagrin. “Money troubles? You haven't changed jobs, have you?” Lance felt his chest burn, and his smile began to fade from his face. “Where’s the money goin’, Angelo?” He asked, his face just innocent enough to tick Lance off just a bit more than he wanted to be. He could see the accusation in those brown eyes, and he turned to him, even as Veronica murmured a protest.

“Don't call me Angelo.” He said firmly.

“Your friends do.” Alex shot back.

“Yeah, my friends _do_ call me Angelo, you're right… don't call me Angelo.”

“ _Ey!_ You two, are you fighting again?” Lance looked up to see his mother standing in the doorway, holding a tray of fresh fruit. Lance Jr. and Eterio were at her heels, with Luis and his wife, Alyssa, following in suit. Alyssa carried in her arms a baby, who was only about a year and a half old- a little boy with jet black hair, tan skin, and light blue eyes.

Lance stood as Angela placed the tray of fruit on the coffee table, then kissed her cheek. “ _Disculpe, mamá._ Just a sibling spat.” He hugged her tightly, happy to see her. “How are you?” He asked, grinning happily.

Angela smiled at him. “I'm well, _mijo_. It's good to see you in person.”

Lance squeezed her hand, then walked over to greet Alyssa. “Hey, beautiful! How's my sister-in-law?”

* * *

The many greetings and ‘How have you been’-s landed Lance in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with his baby nephew, Ché, in his arms, while his father, Rolando, cut vegetables for dinner. Lance generally felt comfortable around his father, mostly because he understood Lance the most out of all his family, seeing as he had suffered through war as well… but that was years before.

“So, Lance… how is Lilia?” Rolando asked, a small, teasing smile directed at his youngest son.

Lance hummed and gently bounced Ché in his arms, making the baby coo and giggle. “...I uh… haven't- I don't know, we broke up a couple weeks ago.” Honestly, it had been about a month and a half, but he didn't blame Rolando for not knowing- he didn't tell them much about his relationships… or his lack thereof.

He already knew of someone he lo-

“I'm sorry, _hijo_ … is there anyone you're thinking of?” His father asked quietly.

Lance’s mind thought back to the previous day- four thirty am, leaving Maya sleeping in his bed with a note on the counter telling her to help herself to the fridge, apologizing for having to leave for work so early. She was gone (as expected, of course) when he returned that night… but she wasn't who Lance thought of almost every day.

Lance shrugged. “Well, yeah… but I'm probably never gonna… see them again.” He admitted.

Rolando paused halfway through cutting a clove of garlic, staring at his hands. “...someone from out there?” His father had taken to calling Lance's previous role in the universe as “out there”, finding it hard to call it ‘the war’. “That girl? Allura? The alien?”

Lance exhaled slowly and stuck his tongue out at Ché. “No. Not Allura…” he sighed. “And again, I haven't seen them for almost two years… I probably won't meet them again.” He lapsed into silence, and after a moment, he felt his father's hand on his shoulder. He looked up at him.

“There are plenty of fish in the sea… you'll find the one soon, I'm sure.’ He assured Lance.

Lance smiled, then straightened up, taking his weight off the counter. “Thanks, papá.” He tapped Ché’s small nose and grinned at him. “Ready to find Papí?” He asked, his voice skipping a couple octaves higher as he left the kitchen, eager to leave the subject of love behind him… He needed some alone time already.

_‘This is gonna be a long night.’_

* * *

They managed to make it all the way through dinner without incident- ‘they’ meaning Lance and Alex. There had been a few backhanded insults and irritated glares, but nothing big.

Now it was just the adults, minus Luis and Alyssa, who were tucking the kids into bed. Lance sat between his father and Amanda, who was wonderful-if not quiet-for dinner conversation. At the end of the table sat Angela, with Veronica across from Amanda and Alex (of course) across from Lance- he had a clear line of fire, and judging from the expression Lance was reading just then, as Amanda and Veronica were telling his parents about their new apartment, that shot was coming soon.

Lance sipped resentfully at his wine, hoping the conversation would continue without pause and wishing that his drink were just a bit stronger.

Lance was just finishing his glass when the inevitable lapse in speech fell over them all. He almost saw Alex’s eyes flash, and Lance's heart leapt into his throat.

 _‘Here it comes.’_ He thought bitterly.

“So, Lance. How are things with you?” Alex asked, his light voice cutting sharply into the silence like a ceramic fillet knife.

The question would have been seen as innocent and friendly, had the prying, condescending tone not been present in Alex's voice.

Lance put down his glass and casually glanced at his fingers, as if inspecting his once-flawless nails… they were now grimy and chipped. “As I said, I've been fine. Little bit of money trouble, since my _rent went up-_ ” he said, shooting a challenging glare in Alex's direction. “-but the weather’s been good on the docks, and I had dinner with Decarlos and Desiderio the night before last, which was nice.”

Angela jumped in before Alex could say anything. “Oh, that's right! How are they?” She asked, shooting Alex the most subtle warning glare Lance had ever seen.

He smiled. “They're doing well- Desiderio just bought himself a nice camera, and I dread the day he starts taking it everywhere with him.” He joked, chuckling.

Amanda grinned. “Why? Worried that he'll take pictures of you?” She asked.

Lance scoffed. “Amanda; as good as I look now, I am like a trash can compared to how I was before-” he cut himself off, feeling the tension rise a bit. Whoops. No ‘war-talk’.

“Lance, don't say that- it's a very different kind of beauty.” Veronica broke the silence first, and Lance smiled at her, grateful.

“Awe, thanks, Veronica, but it's you who got all the natural beauty in the family.” He teased.

Rolando clapped Lance on the back. “Maybe so, but it's my boys who got the handsome genes.” He said fondly, earning a grin from his youngest son. “They can charm any girl they want.” He obviously forgot about Amanda, who was so gay Lance was surprised her hair didn't grow in rainbow, but he had learned to let such slip-ups go.

“Ah, yeah, I meant to ask you, Lance; do you have a girlfriend yet?” Alex asked.

Lance answered cautiously, his voice guarded. “...no...no, not yet. I'm not really ready to settle down…”

Alex cocked his head. “You don't have to settle down, but maybe just put yourself out there… ever heard of a party?” Lance's eyebrow twitched and the mood darkened as Alex's goal became apparent. Alex laughed quietly. “Stupid question. Have you _been_ to any parties lately?” He rephrased, with a smirk on that face that was unbearably similar to Lance's.

Lance's fingers curled around the stem of his empty wine glass, taking a deep breath. He resisted the urge to run his hands across his face, or sniff, knowing it would show Alex that he'd successfully irritated him. “No.” The reply was crisp and clipped, and didn't warrant a follow-up question, which, of course, Alex wanted to ask.

“No? Huh. That's unlike you.” His older brother eyed Lance's glass. “You finished that quick. Want another?”

Several things happened at once- Lance shot to his feet and shoved his hands into his pockets as his mother slammed a hand on the table with a loud exclamation of “ _Alexandro Roman Álvarez!”_

“I'm going outside. I'll be in later.” Lance said quietly, yet firmly, scowling grimly at Alex the whole time. He heard Veronica murmur a protest as he walked around the table and out of the dining room. He barely registered brushing past Luis on his way to the mudroom, and before he knew it, he was alone, outside, with the salty breeze and the crashing waves. Gravel pressed into his bare feet, but he ignored it, fumbling in his pocket for his lighter and groaning, realizing that he'd forgotten his cigarettes back at his apartment-he didn't smoke regularly, but he needed them for situations like this one, for obvious reasons.

Lance instead stood in the drive, flicking his simple, cheap lighter on and off, on and off, distracting himself from his thoughts. He heard the door open, then close, and someone came and stood beside him.

“Hey.” Luis’ deep voice was quiet and calm, and Lance's eyes flickered to him. Luis held out his hand for the lighter, and Lance tossed it to him. He looked back down at his feet as Luis lit something, before the heady scent of marijuana made him lift his head. Luis held out the joint. “Here.” He offered, smoke escaping from his mostly pursed lips.

Lance chuckled. “My brothers are pushing drugs on me.” He joked, but he accepted it and took a long drag, holding it in, before tilting his head back to watch the thick smoke curl, ribbon-like, from his lips into the air. “Why’d’ya come out?” Lance finally asked, his shoulders beginning to lose their tension.

Luis took back the joint. “Didn't want my baby brother smoking cigarettes.” He replied.

“So you give me pot?”

“Better than the shit they put in Marlboros.”

“True.”

Luis was quiet for a moment. “...it looked like you needed it. You seemed pretty stressed out today; what's up?” He asked. When he got no reply, he went on. “Did something happen?”

Lance had the joint again, and he was finally relaxed for the first time in months-not counting, of course, his night with Maya. “...I flipped out the other day, when I was with Decarlos and Desiderio.” He admitted, the words slipping out without his permission- he wasn't even aware that that’s what had been bothering him.

Luis hummed, understanding what Lance meant. “Mind if I ask what set it off?”

Lance sighed, ashing the joint onto the gravel, watching the flakes disappear into the dark, gritty gray. “Motorcycle backfired.”

Luis hissed. “Ooh. I'm sorry.”

Lance shrugged and took another drag, watching the tip glow orange, before he handed it back. “I have to get used to it; it's not like strangers can go out of their way for me.” He said, running his fingers through his hair.

He could feel Luis looking at him, his eyes boring into his right temple, and Lance picked at a scab on his thumb to avoid the eye contact he knew his brother was attempting to make.

Luis’ breath as sharp and audible as he blew smoke out in front of him. “...how’d you deal with it?” He asked.

Lance was quiet. “I just… carried on.” He lied, forcing the memory of bitter liquid from his thoughts. He had no reason to feel guilty, or awkward, but still…

“Yeah?” Luis pressed, his voice lofty. Lance rolled his eyes and sat down in the gravel, feeling too light headed to stand. Luis followed his lead. “Just like that?” He snapped his fingers.

Lance snatched the joint from his brother's hand. “You been talkin’ about me with mamá?” He snickered. He sucked in a deeper breath of smoke than he had intended, and he coughed lightly.

Luis leaned back on his hands. “I always talk to mamá.” He said easily.

Lance raised his eyebrows with a nervous half-grin. “About me.” He finished.

“No.” Luis murmured.

Lance shoved his brother's shoulder. “Stop lying.” He teased.

“I'll stop when you stop.” Luis shot back, pushing Lance back with his left hand. A breeze picked up, carrying the scent of salt and sand and some sort of grilled meat- someone was probably having a cookout on the beach. It brought with it the cool ocean air, and the smoke drifted lazily with the invisible current.

Lance closed his eyes. “I went home, had a beer, and went to bed.” He didn't _lie,_ per say… maybe not the whole truth, yeah, but better than worrying his brother for no reason. He was done with causing people worry.

Luis had taken the joint back with Lance noticing. It was almost gone, which meant-Lance hoped, at least- that their conversation would soon be coming to a close. “Do you always do that when shitty stuff happens?” Luis tried.

Lance laughed softly. “No, Luis. Believe it or not, I'm smarter than I look.”

Luis looked at him, and Lance in turn looked at the ground, to his calloused feet and the sand-bound gravel. “I know you're smart; you made it into the Galaxy Garrison on a scholarship.”  He replied quietly. Lance heard the spent joint fall to the ground, and Luis stepped on it. “...you know you're allowed to talk about it, right?” He asked, his voice gentle.

Lance huffed. “No, I can't. No one wants to listen to ‘Lance's space adventures.’ They don't need to hear more complaints, or sadness.”

Luis gripped Lance's shoulder, and for once, Lance didn't jump, his nerves dulled by the THC. “Lance, it- it's war, it was part of your life; if you want to tell it, I want to listen.”

Lance finally looked up at Luis. His vision was blurry, and there was a small-yet horribly painful-lump forming in his throat. “You have no idea how much I miss them.” He confessed, voice breaking, after a moment of thick silence. He gave Luis a tear drowned laugh and hid his face in his hands. “Every day, I think of them- my best friend isn't here with me- the first person I ever really _loved_ is out _there-”_ He swallowed, gesturing somewhat frantically at the night sky, and shook his head. “...I don't even know if they're alive anymore! I didn't know that so much could happen in two years, but _so much_ can happen, _so much_ can _change…”_ He drew in a shuddering breath, then laughed again. “Sorry… I should go to bed, try to get some sleep, you know…” He said, letting his brother's hand fall from his shoulder as he pushed himself to his feet. He turned to go back inside, then stopped when Luis spoke again.

“Hey, Lance?” He said. Lance looked over his shoulder; Luis’ eyes were intense, truthful, even if glazed and pink. He smiled sadly. “Alex is jealous of you… intimidated. Not sure why, but keep that in mind when he's being a dick.” He explained.

Lance smiled. “Night, Luis. See you in the morning.” With that, he turned around again and returned to the cool air of the house, forgoing the dining room and opting to instead to go straight to the upstairs bathroom to get ready for bed.

Standing in front of the mirror, listening to the muffled argument downstairs and staring into his own face, Lance scoffed. He touched the scar that lay on his left cheek, above his jawline- shrapnel from a small explosion on some remote, previously Galra occupied planet. His gaze traveled from his scar to his eyes.

The redness of his whites made the blue irises stand out like a moon against the sky; red and blue- nebulae they passed, the skins of different aliens, odd plants and flowers, the colors of both his Lions-

He smiled mirthlessly.

“Whatever you're jealous of, Alex, please tell me-” He rasped, his throat stinging a little from the marijuana smoke. He touched the reflection of his scarred cheek and exhaled slowly.

_“Porque yo quiero una cosa ser orgulloso de.”_

* * *

_Porque yo quiero una cosa ser orgulloso de-_ Because I want one thing to be proud of

 _Que bola-_ Cuban slang term, essentially meaning "what's up?"

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've been inactive- it was crunch time for the production I was in and I had almost no time to do anything. But here's a new chapter. I promise it will get more interesting after the next couple chapters, but these parts are important.
> 
> Also, I decided to change Lance's brothers' and sister's names from the ones I came up with to the canon names- minus Marco. I think Marco (in this fic) will be a brother who lives further away, and Alexandro (for obvious reasons) will be the brother Lance doesn't talk about very often. But I had to go through this whole chapter and replace the names, so tell me if you catch a glimpse of the original names I had (Maria and Oscar) so I can fix it.
> 
> Thanks for waiting! Love y'all!
> 
> Muah


	14. Sounds Like A Plan

“Are you sure that the stabilizers are up to snuff?”

“For the last time, Hunk;  _ yes.” _

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to hit Hailey’s coment’s mean older cousin while the stabilizers aren’t working properly.”

Keith stood in the doorway to the tech room, watching Pidge tapping away at her computer while Hunk fiddled with some kind of small device. He looked around the room,taking in its  _ almost  _ trashed appearance- pieces of equipment and tools lay on and beneath tables, and water pouches lay empty on the floor next to the overflowing “recycling” bin.

“Is… is this a bad time?” Keith asked, slightly amused as Hunk and Pidge jumped in surprise.

Pidge shut her computer. “Nope. Well, for Hunk, maybe, but I'm going to bed early- we have a long couple of days ahead of us.” She said, hopping from her perch on the table to the floor and setting her computer down in a (relatively) safe place.

Keith hummed in agreement- currently, they were drifting at the edge of the kuiper belt, waiting for the Blade to arrive and set up communications and temporary scanners on a small, planet-like celestial body- but the real hard part had yet to come… at least, it was the hardest part for Keith.

Keith gently took Pidge's shoulder, stopping her from leaving what she and Hunk liked to call the “Tech Deck”. “Hold on, Pidge, I uh… I gotta talk to you.”

Pidge gestured to the door and continued to walk. “Walk and talk, I'm all ears.” she said as the door slid open. Keith waved to Hunk, telling him he'd be back later on, then ran after Pidge, who had made it quite a ways down the hall.

They walked in silence for a while, as Keith crossed his arms and drummed his fingers on his skin, before Pidge broke it. "So... what do you need?" She asked. To anyone else it may have sounded aggressive, or even sarcastic, but Keith heard that it was mostly curiosity, maybe with  a touch of concern.    
Keith sighed, and rubbed his palms along the coverings on his arms. "...Scars. Is there any way to get rid of them?" He asked finally.   
Pidge stopped walking, then turned to look at him, eyes cautious and almost sad. "... Why?" she replied, voice softer than Keith would have liked.

Keith looked at the floor, at his work red and black boots. One thing he hated about the Castle was its lack of a true climate- it always maintained the same, bearably cool temperature. No breeze, recycled air- no real sunlight to warm their faces.

It made finding distractions much more of a project.

Keith shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. “I just- I want to leave it in the past, and if Lance sees them, he'll-” he stopped, then shook his head. “he won't see them. I won't let it happen. One way or another.” He said, determined.

If Lance saw them…

Keith would be ruined.

Just knowing that he knew.

Pidge raised a skeptical eyebrow. “...there's- as far as I know -no true, effective way to get rid of… that amount of damage.” Pidge said, eyes flitting to Keith's wrists. She scowled. “Take those off, Keith, we know they're there, you don't have to worry around us.”

Keith tucked his hands protectively into his armpits. “...they make Hunk and Shiro upset.”

Pidge gestured around the empty hallway. “Does it look like Hunk and Shiro are here?” she asked. When Keith didn't respond, she sighed and continued. “When it- when you were in the healing pod, all the damage reversal that  _ could  _ be done  _ was  _ done- the most you could do would be to cover them, like you already do.” she explained.

Keith kind of figured that. He huffed. "Then I guess I'll do that." He said, untucking his arms.   
Pidge innocently checked her clothing, picking imaginary lint off the sleeve. "You gonna wear nothing but those damn  _ gauntlets  _ when you two are 'getting jiggy with it'? Or do the gloves stay as well?" She asked, but Keith assumed it was rhetorical.   
Keith flushed up to his ears and made a face. "Pidge, you-there's-there are so many things wrong with that, first of which is 'getting jiggy with it'- that's straight from the nineties. Second, Lance is  _ straight _ ." Pidge snorted, but Keith ignored her, a small smirk now playing across his lips. "-and yes, for your information, the gloves  _ always _ stay."   
Pidge made an exaggerated gagging noise and waved him off. "Alright, Kink Kogane, that is  _ all _ I want to know about your long dead sex life-never touching your gloves again, by the way." She added teasingly, before turning away. "I'm going to bed now- I'll see you in the morning."   
Whatever pleasure Keith had derived from his crude comment was crushed by his stomach as it dropped. Keith floundered silently for words, before he stepped forward and caught Pidge's shoulder. She looked at him, curious but apparently unsurprised, and Keith averted his eyes to the floor again. "Is-is there really no way to- at least make them less...there?" He asked, almost wincing at how desperate he sounded... but the worst part was that he  _ felt _ that desperate.   
Pidge's eyebrows draw together sadly, and they turned and took Keith's forearms in her own hands, smiling softly. "It may be awkward, but it won't matter to him- he's your friend." There was no reply, so she went on. "Hey- sleep in my room tonight- it's cold, and I need a warm body." She offered.   
Keith felt a little sick. He looked at Pidge's face, expecting to see pity, but finding only neutral eyebrows and oddly emotional eyes.   
"...why not Hunk?" Keith asked.   
"He is the  _ worst  _ blanket hog."   
"Your room is a tip."   
koo"I cleaned it two days ago."   
"I kick in my sleep." Keith lied. In reality, he did kinda want to sleep with someone ( _ platonically, of course _ ) that night, but 1) he would never admit that and 2) he  _ hated  _ being a charity case.   
His train of thought was derailed by Pidge squeezing his fingers and looking him in the eye. "Keith, you're not alone in your anxiety about this- I love questions, but only when I know the answers... and there are so many unanswerable questions about this." She said. "Is he alive? Is he safe? Will he come back? Does he want to see us?" Each question cut deeper, and Keith found himself clinging to the sensation of increasing pressure on his fingers.   
"I'm scared too- and honestly, I don't want to be alone right now." Pidge sighed. "But I understand if you don't want to... but it's not me trying to cheer you up." She assured Keith, apparently reading his mind.

Keith exhaled slowly. “...Okay. I'll bunk with you tonight- but I have to say goodnight to Hunk.” He said, backing away.

Pidge smiled. “Thanks, Keith.” She said.

Keith shrugged. “It's… no problem.”  _ ‘It's the very least I could do.”  _ He finished silently.

“Okay… well, I'll be in my room, come whenever.” She murmured, turning around and walking down the hall towards the bedrooms.

Keith stood there for a moment, feeling a little lost. 

Pidge was right- this was going to be an ordeal for everyone, one way or another. He wasn't the only one struggling.

_ “You’re not the only one hurting, man.” _

The corner of Keith's lip curled up a little in what was almost a smile. Lance had been right. Pidge was right. It was time he sucked it up and accepted the comfort he was being offered… maybe. He wasn't quite ready to make that commitment yet.

He turned to go back to Hunk and get ready for bed- tomorrow, they would begin to pick their way through the Kuiper Belt, and from there…

Keith sighed. From there, it was going to get harder.

But he could deal with it.

He had to.

* * *

 

Keith always loved running- that feeling of wind on his face, the sensation if his feet pounding on the ground, the rush of adrenaline flooding his veins; everything made the gasping for breath and the burning lungs worth it.

But the adrenaline didn't seem to be coming from a liberated joy this time.

His feet were bare for some reason- sand kicked up into the humid air in his wake as he darted across what he now recognized as a beach. The water was a deep blue, and the sky bore heavy, white clouds that promised rain. His feet stung, his heart thrummed in his chest,  but he didn't stop. He ran up the beach, slitting his ankles and bare shins on the beach grass (since when was he wearing shorts?) and scrambled over the loose ground. He helped as his foot hit a rock and he tripped, sprawling into the surprisingly soft, lush grass of some field that lay just over the ridge of the beach. There was no pain in his foot, but it was  _ so damn hot-  _ he plucked at the collar of his black suit (A suit now? In this weather?) And found it stuck to his skin with sweat. Why was he wearing black in this boiling sun? He got to his feet, and his heart stopped dead.

There were black-clad figures all around him, their faces blurred and indistinct, and they watched a still, cold gravestone that stood before Keith.

Heart dropping into his stomach, Keith tried to ignore the unsettling silence and knelt in front of the grave, squinting to see the oddly out-of-focus inscription. Weird. He had 20/20 vision. He only made out a couple of letters (m, a, and l) when a voice- oh god, it was so familiar- sounded from in front of Keith.

“They got my name wrong.” The voice said lightly.  Keith looked up and stared.

Lance was on the other side of the headstone, apparently kneeling with his arms slung as comfortably as possible o we the simplistic gray slab. This Lance, however, looked older somehow, his eyes a bit duller, his smile not so bright.

Then, Keith noticed. How had he not seen it before!?

There was blood coating the right half of his face, dripping a little still from a massive wound in his skull- it looked as though something blunt had caved in his head, and yet, he showed no signs of pain.

Lance-obviously not noticing Keith's horrified stare- tapped the inscription, and it suddenly became visible. “Lance McClain. They forgot my middle name.” He pointed out.

Right. Lance had mentioned that before, hadn't he?

“Why did they forget it?” Keith asked. There were tears in his eyes, and a stinging in his lungs, and  _ why was it so hot?! _

Lance chuckled and stood. “Because I never told you… you don't  _ know  _ it!”

Keith mind reeled, and in the confusion of the moment, he almost didn't notice the blood starting to pour, scarlet and viscous, from Lance's head wound. The taller boy’s eyes rolled back up into his head and he keeled forward. Keith gasped and lunged towards him, arms outstretched, sweat dripping from his jaw, screaming-

_ “Lance-” _

Keith jolted awake, panting, drenched in sweat. The sound he'd made was more of a strangled, choked out mutter than a scream, but terror still made his blood rush like a jet-plane.

Keith looked around in the darkness- Pidge lay beside him, still sleeping, drooling onto her pillow. Keith huffed and squirmed out of the covers, realizing that he was overheated, which explained the sweat.

Shaking a little as he lay on his back, Keith placed his hands over his eyes and groaned softly. He couldn't get the image of his former teammate’s bloodied face out of his head- he wondered if there was any hope of him getting back to sleep. He looked to the bedside and read the clock that Pidge and Hunk had built. He sighed. 4:23 am earth-time (roughly); there was almost no way he was getting to sleep again… but he got a good seven hours, so he figured that was enough.

As quietly as he could, he got out of the bed and crossed Pidge's room to the door. He paused, knowing that if he got up then and there, there was  _ definitely  _ no going back to sleep. 

Shrugging to no one but himself, Keith activated the sliding doors and stepped out into the dimly lit hallway.

The lights cast an almost eerie blue over everything, and Keith walked slowly, both to appreciate the near lack of color and to not wake up the others with loud footsteps. He reached out with one hand to touch one of the lights installed in the wall, hoping to find that it radiated some kind of warmth, but-as always- it maintained the same bland cool that the rest of the Castleship offered. It almost made him wish for the humid heat of his nightmare.

His original plan was to go to the training room, maybe practice some techniques, but he found his feet carrying him towards the hangars. His mind was being drawn to the Blue Lion (whether she was instigating the pull or not), and he let himself walk the halls to her door. They slid open with a hiss, and Keith stopped.

A slim, white haired figure sat before Blue, as close as the glowing particle barrier would allow. Upon recognizing the unexpected company, Keith sighed a little pand walked forward, and even though he knew she could hear him, she didn't seem to acknowledge his arrival.

Allura wore one of her many long, elegant nightgowns. It was a light pink, and fell to her ankles- or, it would have, had she not been sitting with her knees tucked against his chest.

Keith sat down beside her and watched Blue with her. He didn't know how many minutes passed, but it was a while before Allura broke into the silence.

“Do you think I did something, Keith?” She whispered the question, but it sounded like a gunshot in the quiet hangar. “Something wrong?”

Keith was still. “...no. I don't think so, Allura.” He replied easily.

Allura turned her oddly colored eyes to him, and he was shocked to see years glimmering there. “Then why am I not good enough for her?” It wasn't an angry or aggressively posed question, and it made the defeat in her voice almost unbearable. 

Keith awkwardly traced abstract patterns on the cold floor with his index finger. “I… I think it's not a matter of ‘good enough’, it's just that…” Keith floundered for words that would explain his thoughts  _ and  _ not sound like an insult. “-that it's just got to do with personality- or maybe Blue thinks that we need your help from the Castle, rather than her cockpit.” Keith tried. Nevertheless, Allura's face fell, and Keith forced himself to place his hand on her back… He sucked at support, jeez. “...you-you're an amazing pilot, there's no doubt about it- so don't worry about your skills.”

Allura shrugged. “Perhaps… but maybe it's because Blue just doesn't like me.” She admitted, burying her face in her arms. “It's ridiculous, I know, but I can't get the thought out of my head… maybe she resents me for having to change our Lions, resents me for Lance leaving…”

Keith closed his eyes, and another silent minute passed. Then, smiling (but keeping his eyes comfortably shut), he spoke. “You know Lance was willing to step aside to let you pilot Blue?” He said quietly.

Allura looked at him sharply. “ _ Lance  _ did?” She almost whispered. “But he was so…”

Keith squeezed his eyes shut tighter against the memory. “...yeah. When we had just found Shiro again, he came to talk to me about it… he said that he should just step aside to let the-” Keith steadied his voice, then continued with a carefully maintained tone. “-he said that we should have our best soldiers on the front lines.” He finished. He hated that memory- the sadness and doubt in Lance's eyes that didn't suit the exuberant Paladin at all… he always tried to block it out.

Allura was quiet for a moment. “...It seems that there is a lot about him that I never bothered to learn.” She breathed. Keith heard clothes rustling, and opened his eyes to see Allura adjusting herself on the floor, so she sat cross legged. She stared up at Blue distantly. “I wish I knew him better.” She sighed.

Keith exhaled softly, then smiled at Allura. “...you have the chance.” He responded, keeping his voice as light as he could.

Allura turned to look at Keith, then smiled half-heartedly. “Yes… I do.” She turned again to face Blue. “...I will try to be a better friend… not just a teammate.” She promised, although Keith felt that promise had not been directed at him.

Keith also looked up at Blue- her metal glinted in the dim light, and her eyes seemed alive, even when dark.

_ ‘Yeah.’ _

_ ‘That sounds like a plan.’ _

* * *

Hey y'all... I'm so sorry it took so long to update. I've been busy with end of the year testing and stuff, and I've had no time to transcribe the chapters... I hand write all of this, then type it up, so it takes a REALLY LONG TIME. Oh well, it's how I get my best work done, and my FREAKIN' COMPUTER WON'T CRASH ON MY WORK AND-

...

I'm still salty about that.

Anyways, here's the new chapter. Sorry if it's not really great, but it's not terrible.

Love y'all!

 


	15. Mensaje

“What if he's dead...? What if he thinks  _ I'm  _ dead?”

“I can't tell you, buddy, I'm sorry…”

“Even if he's not dead...-'s'sso far away… out there…”

“Come on, man, you gotta get some sleep.”

“‘M not tired, I jus'- I wanna see ‘im, tell ‘im-”

“I know, buddy…”

Lance groaned, stomach turning, head spinning. He gripped onto his sheets, just to keep himself grounded. He pressed his forehead into the bed-the bed? Fuck, he didn't even remember  _ getting  _ there- nevertheless, he felt like he was stuck in zero-g… not in a pleasant way though.

“You gonna throw up?”

Lance frowned, trying (weakly) to fight through the haze in his mind to place a name or a face to the voice. Coming up with nothing, he moaned again and shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “Mmmmmno~ no, no, I jus’... gonna lie here…” he slurred, licking his dry lips; he was thirsty, why was he thirsty? “...jus’ for a while… y'don’ hafta stay here…” he said slowly. He didn't know who was there, but he was being a burden, being a burden…

“‘M jus bein’ a burden.”

“Why would you think that?”

Lance's brows pulled together as he tried to recognize the person, but he quickly gave up. He vaguely noticed that a sheet had been pulled over him, and he shifted a bit towards the voice. “...because y'always end up takin’ care ‘f me an'-”

“Damn right I do, Sharpshooter… doesn't mean you're a burden.”

Lance's pinched expression relaxed.  _ Ah.  _ It was just Keith… just-

His blue eyes opened in confusion, and he looked up blearily. His vision blurred, but he'd recognize that hair anywhere. When did-  _ how  _ did Keith get there? And… why?

He sat up as best as he could, watching his old teammate smirk at him with one of his  _ stupid  _ eyebrows raised on that  _ stupid  _ face of his. “H-Why are you here?” Lance asked, trying to pronounce the words right. They seemed to lag behind the movements of his lips. “‘S the war over? You win? What-”

Keith scoffed. “ _ Wow,  _ you are  _ drunk _ … no, the war isn't over.” Keith sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. Lance noticed that it was light out already, with the sun streaming in through the window, the rays catching the motes of dust and glinting off Keith's eyes. “I just… I was worried about you.” He finished, turning slightly to smile, pink cheeked, at Lance.

Lance scowled, trying to make sense of the odd happenings. “W-worried? Why?” He finally said. “Not… really like you…”

Keith grabbed Lance's hand. “I didn't- didn't know if you were dead or not, and I just-” Keith's eyes were swimming now, and even with the heavy weight of alcohol in his blood, it clicked.

“Ah… I'm dreaming.” He realized, sighing. “Figures… you'd never care that much ‘bout me.” Lance murmured. He wanted to let go of Keith's  (weirdly cold) hand, but another aching part of him wanted to cling to him, and never let him go again-

Something dripped onto Lance's face, and his eyes focused on the face that was now right in front of his. Keith sniffled, and touched his nose to Lance's. “I don't- I don't want it to be, I-I miss you, I-  _ we  _ need you back with us, I-”

“This is what  _ I  _ want, Keith.” Lance muttered, even though it hurt to admit it. He took one more glance at Keith's eyes (why were they blue? Keith's eyes weren't blue) and closed his own. He tried to ignore Keith's tears hitting his cheeks. “I'm sorry…”

_ “There's no need for you to be sorry…” _

Lance squirmed. “Ugh, you're getting me wet, c’mon…”

“Well, yeah. Duh.”

Lance cracked an eye open and sputtered. Water pelted his face, cold and honestly miserable. He flailed for a moment, trying to find his bearings.

“You finally awake now,  _ hermano?” _

Lance shook his head roughly, and his wet hair slapped against his face. The water beat down on him, soaking him and his… pants. Wow. Okay.

_ ‘You are sitting in the shower with pants on.’  _ His brain offered helpfully. Lance shuddered, and looked up through the crack between the edge of the shower curtain and the wall. Decarlos watched him carefully, kneeling next to the tub with his chin in his hand, elbow on the ceramic. “What- why-” Lance stuttered, then cleared his throat. “...do I even want to know?” He asked quietly.

Decarlos pulled the curtain back a bit and leaned his other elbow on the edge of the tub. “...you threw up and kinda… got it on yourself, and you were out cold, so…” he gestured to the cold shower. “...yeah.”

Silence. Lance's cheeks burned. Water dripped from his nose into his water logged lap, and he sighed. “I'm sorry you had to deal with me.” He finally said, humility pressing his volume down to a weak murmur.

Decarlos reached out and grabbed his shoulder, apparently not caring if his arm got wet. Lance looked wearily at his younger friend. “You could have died, Angelo, if we hadn't been here.” Decarlos said, voice stern.

Lance shrugged one shoulder and turned his face down to his feet, picking at the belt loop of his right fitting jeans. “Coulda happened at any time… docks are dangerous.” He still felt a little out of it- how long had he been passed out?

“You… you have a problem,  _ hermano. _ ”

Lance chest tightened and he shook his head, all the while moving to stand up. “Yeah, I do- my problem is this water is freezing.” He said, cranking the temperature up briefly to warm himself up before he shut off the water.

Decarlos watched him, looking lost as Lance struggled out of his wet pants, leaving him in his boxers. “Angelo-”

Lance stepped out of the tub, grabbing a towel and scrubbing at his hair. “Decarlos.” He mimicked, drying himself off as best as he could.

Decarlos huffed. “Angelo, I know it's hard to-”

“Decarlos, I don't have a problem!” Lance snapped, gritting his teeth. He immediately felt bad for his outlash and he tightened his grip on his towel. “I...I'm sorry, it's… I just had a rough day.” He murmured.

There was a short silence, then Lance resumed drying himself off.

“...What happened?” Decarlos asked softly.

Lance paused, towel over his head, allowing him to only look forward at the door, rather than at Decarlos, who stood at his side. He exhaled slowly. “My dad's PTSD flared up- scared my mamá real bad, and I had to… to intervene.” Memories flashed through his head, and he hummed thoughtfully. “He... got pretty freaked, He was convinced there were people looking for him, and he started looking for his gun… mamá got scared for him and called me.” Lance sighed heavily and sat down on the closed lid of the toilet. “It took a while to calm him down, and then I had to calm mamá down, so then  _ I  _ was tense so I decided to let loose, and I guess I, uh…” he looked sheepishly up at Decarlos. “...got a little carried away.” He finished.

Decarlos grimaced. “A  _ little.  _ Right. We get a call at 9:30 saying you're already too drunk to walk yourself home.” Lance looked away in shame as Decarlos got down to eye level with him. “It's not a healthy way to deal with your issues… I mean- take my  _ madre _ , for example.” He smiled weakly.

Lance shook his head and faced Decarlos. “I may have problems, but drinking isn't one of them.” He said firmly, standing up. “I'll let you know if I need help.” He snipped, heading to the sink to-at the very least-brush his teeth.

“Angelo, you need to at least have someone to talk to.” Decarlos pleaded, straightening up and coming to stand beside Lance.

Lance stiffened a little. “Decarlos… did I say… anything? Last night?” He asked, worried that his dream might have been a bit more real that he had originally thought.

Decarlos sighed. “You said a lot, but nothing important… that's what bothers me-” Decarlos started, brows arched in concern. “-even when all your defenses are down, you still won't let people in… I'm worried about where that will put you.” He said.

Lance sagged, watching himself in the mirror. His eyes were dull and bloodshot, his skin-as much as he hated to admit it- blotchy in places. He sniffed, rubbing his nose. He'd never looked this bad, this  _ sick… _ he really needed to do something about his insomnia, it was really messing with him.

“I mean, you dont show any anger or anything, and I'm-”

“-worried I might snap?” Lance croaked, staring himself dead in the eye. He gritted his teeth. “Worried I might punch a wall and start looking for a gun?” Lance gripped the edge of the sink. “...worried I might go and  _ really  _ fuck myself up?” He laughed and looked at Decarlos with a mirthless grin. “I already did that, in case you don't remember.” He huffed, closing his eyes and itching the tip of his nose  _ (fucking allergies.)  _ “I've already scared the life out of my family,  _ twice  _ now… I'm not about to do it again.” Decarlos fell silent, and Lance turned to the bathroom door, scrubbing at his torso with the towel. “Is Desiderio still here?”

Decarlos was quiet as he followed Lance out of the bathroom. “No. He left a little while ago, he had to go to work.” He replied softly.

Lance sighed, half in relief, half in disappointment. “...I have to apologize to him, and thank him…” Lance turned to Decarlos, smiling softly. “-and you. I'm sorry you had to deal with me.” Decarlos’ eyes were sad, and Lance's heart sank. Nineteen. Decarlos was only nineteen, he didn't need to deal with Lance's shit. “But… whoever called, I'm glad they called you. I… trust you.” His eyes went wide suddenly. “ _ Mierda! Mi madre,  _ did I-”

“I called her, I let her know you were… safe.” Decarlos assured Lance, grabbing his hand. “She uh… she wants to talk to you… she was worried after you left.”

Lance hissed, pulling away. “Ah  _ crap… _ ” he spun around and pressed his forehead against the wall, gently pounding the wood with his fist. “ _ Dammit.  _ Did you tell her?” He asked.

He heard Decarlos shift where he stood. “That you were off your ass? In so many words, yeah, I did.” Lance groaned and Decarlos scoffed. “Angelo, even if I  _ could  _ lie to Angela and get away with it, I wouldn't- not in this case. No matter what  _ you  _ think, we're worried about you. It's what we do, as friends, as family.”

Lance curled in on himself, just a bit. Even after almost two years, he wasn't used to having the focus on him, having people worry about him- he never knew how to deal with it, except-

“There's nothing to worry about, and I  _ especially  _ don't want to bother mamá with it- she's under enough stress.” He said after a long, tense moment of quiet. He turned around and took a deep breath. “...you should get going, Decarlos- your shift starts in an hour.” He murmured, glancing at the clock.

Decarlos frowned. “Angelo, I want to stay and make sure you're-”

“Please don't make me be the reason you're late.” Lance rasped, closing his eyes.

“... _ hermano- _ ”

“Please.” Lance interrupted, turning back towards his bedroom. His head pounded and his stomach churned, his body was screaming at him in anger, it seemed. “I'm fine. Please.” He hated that he was begging, but… He just needed to be alone.

There was a pause, and Lance couldn't see Decarlos’ face, but he was sure he looked worried. His shoulders tensed, hoping that would be it, that he could be alone-

“...okay, Angelo.” Decarlos breathed, sounding defeated. Lance relaxed a little. “But- please. Please call if you need my help.” He said. “Or-or if you just wanna talk, or whatever.”

Lance smiled sadly. “Will do, Decarlos… have a good day.” He choked out around the lump in his throat.

There was a pause, then Decarlos’ footsteps began to fade towards the front door of Lance's apartment, and Lance spun around. “Hey, Decarlos?”

Decarlos stopped, door half open, and looked at him, eyebrows slightly raised in curiosity. Lance exhaled.

“Thank you.” He whispered.

Decarlos only smiled at him, before he left the apartment, door closing behind him with a soft click.

Lance slumped against the wall, eyes stinging, stomach rolling unpleasantly. He groaned and pulled at his hair, shaking his head. “You've got no reason to cry, Lance Angelo Álvarez-McClain.” He snapped at himself, slamming his eyes shut. His breath caught in his throat, and he almost cringed at the broken laugh that escaped his lips.

“...I've messed up everything.”

.

* * *

.

“Just one disaster to the next…” he whispered to himself, sneaking a glance at the man laying next to him, sound asleep. Lance groaned and sank back into the unfamiliar covers, both at the pain in his head and the pain in his- other places.

He broke one of his most important rules- no drunk sex. He always stood by that,  _ always. _

And yet, there he was, in a stranger's bed, not three days after Decarlos warned him of going off the rails.

Lance reached out blindly for his phone, which- he recalled from his hazy memory- lay on the cluttered bedside table. After almost knocking over a stale glass of water and cursing quietly, he finally grabbed his phone and turned it on. He frowned in guilt.  _ ‘9 missed calls from Mamá’  _ his phone screen silently chastised him. Two of them were new, he noticed.

Lance checked the time and sighed. His afternoon shift started in two hours, and he hadn't even decided how he was going to handle the situation yet.

Lance looked down apprehensively at the other man as he stirred in his sleep, turning to face Lance, but (thankfully) not touching him. Tall, fit, most likely of some Asian descent, gorgeous, Lance saw immediately what had drawn him to his face, even if he remembered little to nothing from the previous night.

Lance's heart clenched and he rubbed a hand down his face. What would they think, of they knew what he was doing? Sleeping around, trying desperately to avoid relationships…

Lance pulled his mind angrily out of those thoughts and slipped as quietly as he could out of the bed. Maybe he couldn't change the past, but he could potentially leave the stranger's house without him waking up. He didn't need the soul-witheringly awkward morning conversation of an intoxicated one night stand.

After swiftly gathering his clothes from the floor and glancing one last time at his new “close acquaintance”, Lance at least took the time to refresh the glass of water by the bed- he wasn't so heartless that he would leave someone with a nasty, stale drink of water the night after drinking.

Lance pulled out his phone as he left the small apartment and found his way out into the street. After taking a minute to gather his sense of direction, he headed towards the main street and took a deep breath, staring at the nine missed calls and four new messages from his mother.

He sighed. “Now or never.” He breathed, tapping on the earliest message and holding the phone to his ear as he walked down the sidewalk, weaving through the people who tended to crowd the path at midday.

_ “Hola, Lancito- I'm calling because I'm worried, Desiderio called and told me what happened last night, and I should have called right away, and I'm so sorry you had to see that, you shouldn't have to deal with that, and- well, it's too much to say in a message, just… call back, mijo. Te amo.” _

Lance tried to ignore the pain in his chest from her broken tone as he darted across the street, narrowly missing an electric Vespa as he made his way to the other side.

_ “Hola, mijo, it's me again… I don't know if your phone died, but I just wanted to make sure that you're safe… at least let me know that… and your father wants to talk to you too, he's so sorry, he wants to apologize, so… so please- call us back, Lance. Te amo.” _

_ “Lance, I'm really worried now, I need you to call me back, or let me know you're safe. I'm your mother, I have to know that you're okay, and Decarlos says your phone is working, and I don't know why you're avoiding me, mijo, I'm not angry, I'm just worried… and- just respond, Lance. Te amo.” _

Lance paused outside a convenience store, leaning against the wall to take a breath. His head killed, and he felt sick to his stomach. He was probably going to throw up soon, he needed to get to his apartment…

_ “Hijo, please! It's been three days now, I'm scared! Your father is scared! Please tell me something, Lance, a call, a message, just please let us know you're okay! I'm scared- the last time you did this, you were-” _

“ _ Mensaje borrado” _

Lance leaned his head back against the wall or the building, sighing. The clouds were strikingly white against the sky, streaking across it like a drying paintbrush. The sun burned at his eyes and he closed them. He tucked his phone into his pocket and- swallowing against the bile threatening to rise into his throat- he resumed his walk towards his own apartment.

He'd get the day out of the way, then he would suck it up and call his mother back.

_ ‘So much for not worrying her.’  _ He thought bitterly. He shook his head. There was no time for thoughts like that- he had work ahead of him.

Lance gagged and clapped a hand over his mouth, earning himself a few disgusted and curious glances. Cheeks burning, he does up his walking.

_ ‘...okay. Hangover first. Then work.’ _

.

* * *

.

Lance adjusted the strap of the heavy, insulated bag as he stood awkwardly outside the door. He heard the bags of ice crunch together, and he frowned a little.

“Is this considered bribery, or a peace offering?” He muttered to himself. He stared at the door with the chipped, red-brown paint for another moment, then forced himself to knock. Maybe the social interaction of work had exhausted him, but this was his family, and he more than owed them.

The door opened, there was a small gasp, and all of the sudden there was a woman's arms wrapped around him, and Angela buried her face in his shoulder. “Oh,  _ mijo _ , please tell me that you're okay.” She said, reaching up to hold his face in her hands.

Lance smiled softly at her, and hoisted the bag from his shoulder. “I am now, but if we wait much longer I dont think this shrimp will be.” He joked, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

Angela smiled, immediately recognising the fresh seafood as an apology (of sorts), and ushered him inside. “Well, then let's get them started- we'll get papá to go out for some fresh vegetables.”

Lance slumped a bit, knowing that if she was getting Rolando out of the house, it meant she wanted to talk to Lance seriously.

…

He supposed he owed her that too.

Although it wasn't until later, when he was shelling and deveining the shrimp, that Angela's tone became more somber.

“ _ Mijo… _ how have you been lately?” She asked, her pace unfaltering as she chopped a green pepper into small cubes. When Lance didn't reply, she went on. “Honestly.” She added.

Lance sighed, and peeled the shell off of the last shrimp with little more passion than necessary. “Mamá, I'm okay. Anything to say at this point would just be a repeat of shi-stuff I've said before.” He responded truthfully, picking up the small knife and deveining the shrimp before rinsing his hands and drying them off on the dish towel.

Angela took a moment to look at him, her brow wrinkled in concern. “That doesn't mean it's any less of a problem.”

Lance shrugged curtly. “It's not a problem, they're just complaints… besides, it's all in the past now, I shouldn't be so hung up on it.” He said it quietly, as if he didn't have full faith in his own words.

“Would you say that to your father?” Angela asked easily, going back to her original task. Her voice was smooth and firm; quiet, but they resonated in Lance's head as if she had screamed them in his ear.

Lance stiffened, knowing he was stuck. He slumped a little. “...no… but it's different-”

“No, it's not, Lancito.” Angela cut in, her knife slamming into the wooden cutting board with a thunk. She placed the blade down and moved the chopped pepper to a plate. She picked up a cube of the sweet green fruit and held it up to Lance as if he were still a toddler. “We're all just worried about you. Your family, friends… all of us.” She smiled. “I'm sure your friends out there are as well.” She added softly.

Lance smiled sadly and took the paper between his teeth, chewing on it as he picked up a small habanero. “I left for a reason, mamá… I don't think they even miss me that much.” He said.

Angela huffed. “If they don't, they're blind, and I'll need to give them a good talking to.” She tsked, only half-joking, it seemed.

Lance chuckled a bit at that, and the silence that fell had lost some of its tension. “ _ Mijo _ , if they came back… what would you do?” Angela asked, voice gentle and curious.

Seeing as how Lance asked himself that very question more often than he wanted to admit, it didn't spark the normal burst of panic that most of “those” questions did. He leaned against the counter, ruffling his hair with one still-damp hand and gazing out the window at the yard, where a few chickens roamed, searching for bugs in the sparse grass. After a moment, he shrugged. “I don't know, mamá… it depends on what they come back for.” He answered, smiling a bit as he watched the family cat creep up behind the birds.

“What if they come back after winning?” She said.

The white and gray cat wiggled its haunches. “I’d celebrate them, but I doubt they'd come to me.” He said.

Angela's movements stilled. The smell of minced garlic permeated the air, making Lance’s nose tingle. He sniffled. “What if they come to take you back?”

Feathers scattered and the hens fled in all directions, stirring up dust. Lance's blood ran cold.

“Nothing they could offer me would be worth the lives that I took.” Lance's trembling voice whispered. The cat’s tail flicked in irritation.

“Nothing is.”

_ _

* * *

_Mensaje borrado- Message Erased_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! So, I finally finished transcribing this chapter, I hope it's okay!  
> I've been a little busy with work, haha  
> Also... season 6, man. How freakin' beautiful was it? The art was incredible!  
> Alright, this chapter. I wanted Lance to have a dream scape as well, to balance things out... also, the next chapter will also be a Lance chapter, just because it will work out best like that. I'm gonna start transcribing it today, hopefully, and it won't be such a long wait!  
> Alright, I love you all, thank you all so much for your suggestions and support!  
> Oh, I changed my Instagram name; it's now @kritt.sha... feel free to check out some of my sketches and shit, lol  
> Muah! Hope you enjoyed!


	16. Las Batallas

A peaceful night on the beach.

Even _that_ was too much to ask?

Apparently so.

.

.

.

Lance's night had started off fine. Five days- almost a week -after his mother had presented him with that question, Lance was _almost_ back to normal. The night before his day off work saw him making his way across the beach, the setting sun casting a warm orange glow on him and a small group (some friends, others strangers) as they talked, thankfully about nothing in particular.

The sand turned cold quickly after the sun finally disappeared beneath the waves, but the bonfire took care of that problem (yeah, it was technically illegal on _Varadero Playa_ , but that was only because they never bothered to change the laws after the war). Lance sat across from Decarlos and Desiderio, and from what Lance could see through the roaring flames, they were pretty much glued to each other's lips- that said a lot about Decarlos’ state of inhibition, but it wasn't like his family was there to witness the display, so it ultimately didn't matter.

“Ey, Angelo, you figure out your money situation yet?” Riel asked over the rim of a solo cup.

Lance groaned light heartedly and shoved Riel’s solid shoulder. “Riel~ I came here to relax, not worry more than I usually do!” He complained, taking a small sip of his beer.

Riel chuckled. “Hah, well, Aleja and I thought you might be able to land a job at _Los Guaricandillos…”_ He wiggled his eyebrows. “They could always use a new dancer.” He teased.

Lance stuck out his tongue at the mention of one of (who was he kidding, the only) Varadero's low-class male strip clubs. “What an insult- I'm higher class than that, I only do private dancing.” He joked, jabbing Riel in the ribs with his elbow. Riel doubled over, and Lance leaned across his back to look at Aleja, who sat “innocently” next to Riel on the log-turned-bench. “By the way, Aleja, where's Miguel? He's usually with you when you come to these things.” He asked, kind of missing his older friend's presence.

Alexa sighed and balanced her bottle on her knee as she rubbed her tanned forehead. “...his brother's been in a bit of a rough patch, so he's spending some time with him. He's gonna join us on the boat for a bit, too.” She smiled, and Lance tried to ignore the pang of jealousy he felt upon seeing the look of soft affection in her eyes. She grinned at Lance after a moment, waving him off as Riel recovered and straightened up, pushing Lance off his back. “-but don't worry… you can continue to court my boyfriend soon, you'll see him on Wednesday.” She laughed, and Lance snorted.

“It's almost like you _want_ me to steal him from you.” Lance played along, finishing off his drink.

“Eh, I just like to see you try.”

“Jesus Christ, have those two even come up for air yet?” Someone crowed, and Desiderio pulled away from Decarlos.

“Oh, fuck _off,_ Garcia; go jump off the dock!” Decarlos muttered, leaning into Desiderio's shoulder as the other man laughed.

Lance smiled and closed his eyes, savoring the warmth radiating from the fire and the smell of the ocean.

“Feels good to not think, huh, Angel?”

Lance hummed in agreement. “Nothing better.” He said quietly to Riel as he leaned back on his hands.

“‘Cept maybe sex.” Riel joked.

“Same thing.” Lance grinned.

“Maybe for you, _chulo.”_

“Prude.”

“Excuse you!”

“Sorry.”

.

.

.

“Angel, watch your step, my foot isn't a cockroach.”

“Oh really? Shit, my bad.”

“Don't get sassy with me, I'll kick your incompen- incomp- your stupid ass.” Desiderio nearly tripped on a hole in the sand and swore loudly, almost bringing Decarlos and Lance down with him.

Lance cackled, leaning into him heavily. “Aw, y'almost had it though~! Word's ‘incompetent’.” He teased, lazily patting his shoulder. “Better luck next time.”

Decarlos sucked in a breath. “Angelo, watch your-”

Lance hit the sand hard, having tripped over a rather large mound of sand. He groaned, spitting out sand and dusting his shirt off as he turned onto his back. Desiderio and Decarlos were laughing, even as the latter held out a hand to help him up. “T'be fair, sand's hard to walk on sober, gimme a break…” Lance grumbled, taking Decarlos’ hand and pulling himself up.

Desiderio snickered as Lance staggered to his feet, not quite finding his balance on the shifting ground. “There you go, _amigo,_ you got this.”

Lance shoved him, almost sending him toppling. “Don't be a dick.”

Decarlos groaned and moved to stand between them. He patted both of their shoulders, sighing. “Desiderio, play nice- Angelo, don't make a scene.” He said tiredly. Even if he'd started out being the one with the highest BAC, it was clear that he was now the most present of the three. “It's almost two am for heaven's sake.” The lack of cussing proved his sobriety, Lance liked to think.

Lance's face broke into a lopsided grin as the left the beach in exchange for the cracked, asphalt road. “A scene, huh? We don't wanna look like a group of spring break teens, huh? I get it…” he murmured, bending over to clumsily undo the straps of his sandals.

“Angelo…” Decarlos warned as Desiderio chuckled, his arm wrapped securely around Decarlos’ waist.

Lance held his sandals in one hand, imitating the high school age, high heel- wielding tourists on their escape from the D.A.* during the spring months, who tended to take advantage of the low drinking age.

“Decarlos doesn't want me to make a _scene_ \- as if I would~” he drawled in mock offense, walking haphazardly down the street, only slightly exaggerating his uneven, lilting gait.

“Angel, you've tripped once already, watch where you're going, you drunk idiot.” Desiderio teased.

Lance quickly straightened up as they passed him. “Buzzed, Desi- I'm not the one hanging off of Decarlos.” He shot back easily.

Desiderio shoved him as they passed, making him stagger dramatically to the side. “I'll settle for tipsy- either way, you need to get to bed.”

Lance regained his balance and fell into step beside them, not bothering to put is sandals back onto his calloused feet. The lights of the lower city drew nearer, and Lance hummed to himself as they swam in his vision.

Maybe bed was a good destination after all.

.

The walk to his apartment left him feeling more clear headed than before, and yet, Decarlos was hesitant to leave him alone… for once, though, Lance wasn't anxious to have them leave.

“You sure you dont wanna just come with us, Angelo?” Decarlos said, standing against the railing if the balcony walkway with one hand on Desiderio's shoulder. “I mean, you don't have work tomorrow-”

“Decarlos- s'alright… I'm honestly more worried about you two making it home.” Lance grinned, eyeing Desiderio, who was apparently too tired to even flip him off. “You two could stay here, I'll sleep on the couch.” He offered, taking out his key and luckily fitting it into the lock with no trouble.

Decarlos shifted on his feet. “I wouldn't wanna take your bed-”

“S'really fine, you can stay if you want to-”

“Do you… _want_ us to stay?”

Lance dropped his key after opening the door and swore, holding onto the door frame to bend over and pick it up without face planting. The hidden question behind the words made Lance tense up.

_‘Do you need someone with you?’_

“I-I don't care either way, just thought it'd be easier, but I guess you'd be more comfortable in your own bed, huh?” Lance quickly back tracked.

Decarlos smiled. “I think it's best if I bring Desi back to his place… but thanks, Angelo.” He took Desiderio by the arm, waking him from the dazed trance he was in. “See you soon… take care.” He said cheerfully. Desiderio mumbled something along the same lines as he was pulled along, but it was lost in the breeze.

Lance looked up at the sky after they were gone. His head spun so that he had to grip the door frame tighter, and he smiled drowsily, knowing he should really go inside and get some sleep before the window of opportunity passed, but he was content for once as he watched the sky above the ocean.

Wanting a better view, he crossed the narrow walkway and clung to the railing, breeze lifting his hair from his neck and prompting him to take a deep breath… good night… it had been a good night, after a good day, and the stars were beautiful and bright and-

_Interrupted_

Lance blinked, frozen where he stood, as a bright, burning streak appeared in the sky, cutting a blazing line through the black before seeming to disappear into the ocean.

Lance's lungs screamed, every muscle tensed, every vein constricted. Dazed and horrified, Lance shook his head.

Not another one- he wasn't that bad, not now, when lucidity was _just_ out of grasp- he couldn't have one now-

He stumbled into his apartment and locked the door behind him, hands shaking- he knew it was just one of those damn hallucinations, _again,_ that it couldn't hurt him-

A hysterical laugh ripped it's way out of his throat, and he sank to his knees, breathing becoming shallow and rapid.

_‘Can't hurt me, can't hurt me-’_

_‘Why not?’_

_‘You hurt them!’_

_‘Don't you deserve it?’_

_‘All those lives you took- this is karma- the Galra are coming, they've come for you-’_

“Shut up, _shut up!”_ Lance punched the cheap welcome mat, scraping his knuckles on the abrasive surface, before he pulled on his hair and curled into himself.

“ _I'_ _m done with all that! They can't hurt me, not anymore, they can't hurt me-”_

_‘What if they can?’_

Lance growled and pulled himself off the floor. “There… are ways… to shut you up…” he hissed to himself, to the incessant, nagging voice in his mind, as he forced his way through the thick panic to his cabinet.

" _There are ways to shut you down.”_

.

.

.

“Angelo!”

_“Angelo, open the damn door!”_

The voices sounded just as distorted and distant as the ring of his cell phone, but Lance made no move to get up. He shuddered, running his thumb back and forth across the lip of the bottle, its astringent, nose-dryingly bitter scent no longer registering in his brain.

_‘If I open the door… what if it's just another hallucination? They can't hurt me here, they can't hurt me-’_

_‘They can-’_

Lance's mouth stung at the contact with the foul smelling liquid, but the wince no longer came.

“Angelo!”

“ _Agh!_ Hold on, I'm just gonna open it!”

“How- You have a key, of course you have a- Angelo, we're coming in!”

Lance curled his knees up against his body, hiding himself in the corner of the couch. If the door opened, that meant real people were there…

That was somehow worse.

_‘What if it's them-’_

One last draft and the contents were gone, yet he still clung to the bottle, thumb circling the glass rim, breath speeding up as his thoughts slowed down.

He barely heard the click of the lock, nor the frantic footsteps that followed. Lance's hand twitched. Two pairs- he could handle them-

“Oh _dios,_ Angelo…”

“ _Ey, hermano_ -” Someone knelt in front of him and took his face in both hands. Lance exhaled sharply- Spanish -not them. The hand gently slapped his cheek. “C'mon, _menor,_ open your eyes, lemme know you can hear me, yeah?”

Lance forced his heavy eyelids up- four- no, two men stood before him, one who kinda reminded him of Hunk and the one who was kneeling-

Lance groaned. “Oh no… Luis… va, _va…_ ” He couldn't- not his big brother- “I don’ want you t’ see me like this…” He slurred, hiding his face in his hands. They were drawn away, and even through his doubled vision, Lance saw the concern in his brother's eyes.

“L-Angelo, talk to me, bro, how much have you had?”

“Have you eaten?” Decarlos- that was Decarlos.

Lance pawed at the bottle between his legs and lifted it. “S'gone…” he chuckled bitterly, letting it drop onto the couch next to him. His legs went limp and slipped off the cushions, nearly hitting Luis’ knees. His stomach churned and he groaned, head lolling to the side. “‘ve eaten… not gonna… gonna die, don’ worry…” He mumbled, turning onto his side only to fall onto the couch, laying uncomfortably on the bottle.

Luis pulled him back into a sitting position like he weighed nothing. “When did you start, _hermano?”_

Lance hiccuped. “...sunday…” He admitted quietly.

Luis swore and Decarlos made a sort of whimpering, shocked sound that made Lance's heart sink. “You've been on a bit of a bender, huh, baby bro? Have you left the house?”

“Why didn't you call me? Or Desi?”

“How much water have you had?”

“What happened?”

Lance's eyes welled up against the barrage of questions. “Hal-hallucinations... _hic..._ the- comet, or-or ship, Luis, _dios mio,_ Luis, _yo p-pensé que-”_

He was pulled into a tight hug as soon as the tears hit his cheeks, and Luis gently rubbed his back. “Oh, _hermano, lo siento, mi alma, calma, por favor…”_ His voice shook, which only made Lance cry harder. “Decarlos, could you get him some water while I get him cleaned up?” He asked quietly as Lance broke down into his shoulder. Decarlos’ footsteps faded into the kitchen, and Luis pulled away. “C'mon, Lancito-” he whispered, taking Lance's shoulders and pulling him to his feet. “You need to- _whoa-”_

Lance staggered past him, one hand over his mouth and the other on his stomach, towards the bathroom. As soon as he bent over the toilet, Luis’ hands were holding his hair back and rubbing his shoulder blade. Lance retched, his stomach trying to dispel two days worth of poison from his system, even if it was pretty much useless. He trembled, cold sweat on his forehead, as he gagged, over and over.

Luis was talking again. “ _-_ mamá called me- _ayuda tu hermano, ayuda Lance,_ he's not picking up any calls, he won't listen to me…” His voice cracked. “Why didn't you talk to me, _menor?_ I said you could talk to me…” he asked quietly.

Lance spit into the toilet, gripping the sides with shaking hands. He lifted his head enough so that he wasn't inaudible. “...didn't… You can't help… if I called… if I called-” his stomach lurched, and he moaned miserably. “-I wouldn' know what’s real…” he rasped.

Luis’ hand paused on the space between his shoulder blades as he exhaled slowly. Lance felt his nausea subside enough for him to sit up a bit and take in a few, much needed deep breaths.

“Lance…” Luis started, his voice hesitant. “...this doesn't change that fact that I want you to tell me when you're having trouble, but…” Lance felt uneasy, and didn't look up at Luis, but waited as his older brother sighed. “...that ‘comet’ wasn't a hallucination.” He said softly.

Lance's head was back in the toilet in record time, shock making his stomach upend itself once again. Luis held his shoulders tightly, anchoring him.

“Calm down, _menor,_ it was on the news, it was just an old satellite that finally fell out of orbit-”

“They're back, they're back, Luis, _hermano_ , they've come for me, they're gonna kill me-”

Luis pulled him back from the toilet and into his arms, so Lance's back was to his chest. Lance gripped Luis’ arms so tight his knuckles paled. He struggled weakly against him, breath speeding up, heart rate skyrocketing and the room spinning wildly. “My bayard, bayard, Luis, please, I need-” He sobbed, and he felt a hand run through his hair.

“S _hh, menor,_ you're okay, no one is here except for me and you and Decarlos- no one is coming for you, _alma_ …” Lance distantly heard water running, and the next second, someone was gently cleaning his face with a warm washcloth.

Fresh tears replaced the ones that had been wiped away, and he reached out blindly, grabbing the wrist of whoever held the cloth.

 _‘Soft..’_ Lance registered the feeling and his fingers moved to the hand, clinging tightly to Decarlos as Luis held him, carding fingers through his hair and humming into his ear.

“You're okay, _amigo._ ” Decarlos murmured. Lance could barely make out his face, but he recognised the blue eyes, one dark and the other cloudy with scarring. “You’re safe.”

Lance laughed at the word, tears streaking down his face and neck. He felt Decarlos hold up a glass to his lips, and he forced himself to calm down, taking a few, tiny sips to rid his mouth of the sour taste of bile and liquor.

Luis gently tapped his cheek. “You feel a little better, Angelo?” He asked. Lance only huffed breathlessly in response, groaning softly as his stomach fought to keep the water down. “You're breathing better.” He noticed.

Lance's head drooped, and he struggled to keep his eyes open. There was the washcloth again, cold this time, then the water. He took a bigger sip than he meant and spluttered, coughing a little. This did nothing but bring his hiccups back. “Don't pass out just yet, _hermano,_ we need to make sure you're okay.”

Lance reached back and dug his fingers into Luis’ upper arm. “Luis…” He whispered. Luis hummed to let him know he was listening. Lance turned his head a little to face him over his shoulder. “If they… if they come… what'll happen to me?” He slurred.

Luis squeezed Lance in a tight hug. “You're not going _anywhere_ unless you say so… I promise, _hermano_.” He said firmly.

Lance's face twisted into a sort of tired smile, and he slumped helplessly into his brother's arms. “‘M sorry, you guys… have t’ deal with me…” He mumbled.

Decarlos gripped his hand tightly, and Luis chuckled. “Don't ever be sorry to get help, _hermano.”_ Decarlos said. Lance's eyes closed.

“We've all got our battles… we never have to fight them alone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guaricandillos- The original word is Guaricandilla, which is essentially a word for a (sexually ) vulgar woman... I just thought it would be a funny name for a male strip club, even if it doesn't make a lot of sense and even if Cuba (to my knowledge, correct me if I'm wrong) does not have many of said clubs
> 
> D.A.- I mentioned it in passing, that my headcanon is that the Voltron world takes place in the future, and that there was/is a war going on, so I think part of that was that the U.S. kinda broke down into an actual Democracy, hence the term D.A. (Democracy of America). (Please don't get into fights in the comments about the political state of America, I just wanted to personalize the world and make it interesting T^T)
> 
> Menor- Luis is just shortening the term that means "little brother" (hermano menor), but it can mean things like "kid" or "junior"- Luis treats it as a term of endearment
> 
> Va- Lance is telling Luis to go
> 
> Yo pensé que- I thought that
> 
> Ayuda tu hermano- Help (ayuda) your brother  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> So anyways, here's the new chapter! I'm gonna start transcribing the next one right away! Hope you guys enjoyed. It's a little hard for me to write chapters like this (experience with intoxicated people is not always fun), but it's a better coping mechanism than others... hope it's still an interesting chapter, even if it is a bit depressing.  
> Love you all! Thanks for reading this.... thing, lol!  
> <3


	17. Homecoming

“‘You should come to Cuba with me when we get back to Earth!’” Pidge mocked their missing teammate as she unfolded her clothes from the small, watertight packs that Coran had dug up from somewhere in the castle.

Shiro chuckled. “Pidge, we've only been here for two hours.” He said, already dressed, his Paladin armour in a neat pile beside their fire.

Pidge grumpily shook out her green and white shirt, which had started to become a bit tight around her chest and upper arms, Keith noticed. She'd definitely grown; they'd need to get new clothes. “ _ Sharks, Shiro!  _ The first face I wanna see when we get to earth is not a fu-freakin’ tiger shark!” She grouched, gathering her clothes into her arms and stomping off towards a dilapidated building, where Hunk was still changing. “I'll be back in a minute.” She grumbled, already complaining under her breath about the sand.

Keith and Shiro exchanged an amused glance, and Shiro shrugged. “I've encountered worse creatures.” He said simply, unwrapping a ration bar as he sat down on a stone next to their small, hopefully inconspicuous fire. Whether he had been referring to the sharks or the disgruntled Katie Holt, Keith didn't know, but either way, it was an accurate statement.

Keith looked around, yet again wondering at the brilliance of the stars. There was no light pollution on this small island, and it didn't look like there were any people either. Keith had been inside the building to change as well, and had taken note of the organized, military style of abandoned and rusted equipment. “I haven't really thought about the war here on earth in a while.” He said aloud, also sitting down. He frowned into the flames. “It's easy to forget how other countries were affected by it.” He said.

Shiro hummed, finishing off his ration bar. “Cuba was hit pretty hard, I think, especially following WWIII… It wasn't nearly as bad in the Democracy, back when it was the United States.” He paused. “Aside from New York and D.C, that is.” He added.

Keith huffed. “No, they had other problems.” He muttered. There was a silence, broken by the occasional snap of the fire. Keith exhaled slowly. “...we're back on earth, Shiro.” He murmured dumbly.

Shiro laughed lightly. “We're back…” He repeated.

Keith rubbed his forearms out of nervous habit. “Feels weird.” He breathed. Another silence. “What would happen if we stayed?” He wondered.

Shiro snorted. “Allura would kill us, then save the universe on her own.” He joked. He raised his eyebrows at Keith. “Do you… want to stay?” He asked quietly.

Keith shook his head. “Nothing much to stay for, y'know?” He replied gruffly.

Shiro was quiet, staring into the fire. He knew Keith wasn't exaggerating, but even after all their years by each other's sides, he still didn't really know how to respond to statements like those. That was fine; Keith didn't need a response.

They sat in comfortable silence until Pidge and Hunk rejoined them at the fire. Pidge- never one for wanting to fuss with sand or dirt- sat next to Keith on an old log, while Hunk sat down across from them on the ground.

“So,” Hunk started, looking at each if his teammates in turn. “Do we have a plan?” He asked.

They all hesitated. Their plans had consisted mainly of  _ getting  _ to Earth, not what to do once they were there. “Um… somehow get to the main island, find Lance, get back to the Castleship?” Keith offered, only half-sarcastic.

“We haven't really thought this through, huh?” Shiro said, crossing his arms in thought. “Given the fact that there are footprints and other evidence that people still come here, it's a good bet that there'll be a boat coming here soon.” He continued.

“Worst comes to worst, there are some life rafts in that building- they look a little sketchy, but the mainland isn't  _ too  _ far.” Hunk interjected helpfully.

“Yeah, Hunk, we'll just float ashore, on a beach, in an old life rafts in midday- two rough looking Asian dudes, a freakin’ hulk of a Samoan, and a little twiggy  _ gringa. _ ” Pidge said, her voice dry and her eyebrow quirked.

“I think it's  _ yuma  _ here, not  _ gringa.” _

“Either way, it's not much more suspicious than if a boat comes by  _ here  _ and sees us.” Keith interrupted, amused.

“Keith and Pidge have a point- we may not be able to find a completely believable story, but we have to come up with something that's at  _ least  _ plausible.” Shiro added. 

“...we could be tourists.” Hunk said.

“Who got left by their group on a tiny island- perfect, Hunk.”

“Pidge, watch your temper, please.” Shiro chastised their youngest member. “Tourists may be the most believable story we have.”

“We could have been camping here and our boat drifted off.” Keith shrugged.

Hunk nodded, then frowned. “Do we even know if this island is open to the public?” He wondered?

Pidge took out a tablet from her pack and pulled up what looked like a holographic map of the islands. “I can always cross reference with recent Earth info, with some work, but from what I see, we're on  _ Cayo Romero, _ and last Lance knew, it was open to public use.” Pidge explained. 

_ Lance. _

Keith's eyes were drawn to the horizon, where the water met the sky, and his mind started to slip out of focus. He was tired, emotionally exhausted (as per usual), and the direct mentioned of their blue eyed Paladin didn't help his drifting thoughts. 

His head apparently tired of thinking about the heavier questions, he found himself wondering about things like his appearance- how much had he changed? Was his hair longer? Shorter? Maybe he had a beard now, or freckles and a deeper tan from the sun exposure that they'd lacked in space. He couldn't imagine him with a different body type (he'd been tall and slender for as long as Keith had known him), but perhaps he had lost some of the muscle bulk he'd gained from fighting.what kind of job did he have;  _ would  _ he have a job? Where did he live, how-

“Kei~~~th~”

Keith blinked blearily at the hand being waved in front of his face. Pidge grinned teasingly. “Falling asleep there, buddy-man?” She asked.

Keith could only find the strength to nod, and Shiro chuckled. “Maybe it's time to get some sleep, it's late- early-” he frowned. “- it's time to sleep. We'll continue in the morning.” He said, standing. “So- we sleeping on the beach or in the building?”

Keith lost himself in the babble again, and mindlessly followed his team to the building, where they managed to make themselves slightly comfortable before they settled in to sleep.

There was a window in the wall, above where Keith lay on the floor- he could look up and see the stars above the tops of the trees and he smiled softly, wondering if Lance was seeing those same stars too.

_ ‘We're here, Lance.’  _ He thought, closing his eyes and giving into the lull of sleep.  _ ‘I hope you're ready to go.’ _

.

* * *

.

Keith found it almost unbelievable that after just a day (which did, fortunately, give them time to plan), a boat did indeed come right to shore where they currently sat, still groggy from two nights of less than perfect sleep.

Pidge spotted the fishing vessel first, being the most awake out of all of them (probably being used to running on less than 4 hours of sleep), and stood excitedly, immediately beginning to recheck that everything had been taken care of.

Shiro chuckled, trying to get her to calm down, while Hunk made sure that any alien tech was out of sight in their small, watertight satchels.

Keith was too tired to say anything, but he'd already done a mental check of everything- they had cloaked the Green Lion, and it waited-hidden from any Earth scanners- about a mile off shore. They had done a quick search of the island and found a suitable place in the woods to hide their Paladin armour and bayards  (again, hidden with cloaking… man, they owed a lot to Pidge for that technological feat), so they were all set, as long as their story held water with the quickly approaching fishermen. Keith looked around at their group- lean or otherwise strong and muscled, scarred, and tense- yeah, sure,  _ tourists.  _ Keith scoffed, shaking his head. “No  _ way  _ they're gonna believe any story we have.” Keith murmured to Hunk in slight amusement.

Hunk grinned. “Bet you 20 bucks they'll call us out.” He whispered back.

Keith rolled his eyes. “It's obvious I'm not gonna take that bet.”

“Probably best.”

15 minutes later, they boat had shored in the shallow water, and three men were deboarding, boots splashing in the water as the larger group trudged down the sand to meet them (with Hunk at the lead, knowing the most Spanish out of all of them).

“ _ Buenas días, señores! _ ” Hunk called out, his hand raised in a friendly greeting. That was probably the most Keith would understand, having only taken the required four years in school and only paying attention for four minutes of them in total. 

One of the men laughed as they all walked out of the break and onto the sand. “ _ Buenas tardes, compañero… un poco cansado, sí? _ ” He joked in a deep, smooth voice. Keith… couldn't help staring at the broad, tanned shoulders and the sparkling hazel eyes… Jesus.

Had Lance's shoulders been that broad? No, he was more slender, but-

“Hey, Earth to Keith- pick your jaw up before you get sand in your mouth.” Pidge interrupted, smirking. 

Keith glared at her. “Shut up…” he grumbling, flushing a bit at having been so obvious.

“- _ y perdimos nuestro bote en el mar… no lo anclamos bien.”  _ Hunk laughed, sounding  _ fairly  _ convincing.

The men looked at each other, then at the group. “ _ Turistas, eh _ ?” The second man-slim, with black hair and a stubbly beard-said, sounding unconvinced.  “ _ Todos ustedes parecen soldados para nosotros.. oh, no se preocupen!”  _ He grinned. “Don't worry-  _ ingles, sí? Sí,  _ we know enough.”

Shiro stepped forward, a small smile on his face. “You could say that… but we  _ are  _ tourists; we’re looking for an old friend- meeting up with him, but the camping trip didn’t go as planned, obviously.” He chuckled, referring to their lost, non-existent boat. “You wouldn’t happen to have space on your boat when you go to the mainland, would you?” He asked.

The third man grinned. He was the shortest, and well built, with a large scar across his left shoulder and a missing little finger- he looked a lot like the man with hazel eyes… probably brothers, Keith suspected. “Maybe if we get your names.” He said it while smiling, but Keith heard the guarded mistrust.

Shiro stepped forward, human hand extended. “My apologies- my name is Takashi.” He said. Keith took note to use his first name in company, in case people remembered the missing Kerberos pilot, Shirogane.

Hunk shook hands with each of them. “ _ Yo soy Hunk. Ella es Katie, y este Keith.”  _ He said, thankfully handling the introductions for the two more socially awkward members of the team.

After the brief introductions, the team followed the three men (Miguel, Riel, and Cedro) onto the fishing vessel, their small satchels in hand. Keith wondered for a moment about how easily they were allowed on board, and Cedro seemed to notice his alert expression. He dropped back a little to walk alongside him.

“Anyone that open about being a soldier to a Cuban can’t have been on the wrong side of the war.” Cedro murmured. His eye turned intense, and he looked away sharply. “Where were you stationed?” He asked quietly.

“Cedro, you should know better-” Miguel started to say, but Shiro laughed, taking everything in stride.

“It’s alright, fair question. We were stationed in Hawaii- I’m afraid I’m not allowed to tell you where else.” He lied, looking apologetic.

Cedro sighed, shrugging. “Ah, I get it, don’t worry.” He clapped a hand on Keith’s back. “Wherever you were, I’m glad to see you’re all here, brothers.” He paused, looking at Pidge, before opening his mouth again.

Pidge held up a hand with a lazy shrug. “Just keep it simple, it’ll be easier for all of us.” She said.

Shiro shot her a look, but Riel laughed. “I like you! You remind me of someone-in a good way.” He chuckled, before turning to Miguel. “ _ Si los consigues  _ _cómodo  en cubierta, voy a dejar que Aleja sepa que tenemos compañía.” _ He said, before disappearing into the lower part of the boat. Cedro followed him, and so the team was left in the hot sun with this tall (incredibly attractive, what the hell?!) man.

Miguel eyed Shiro for a moment, then nodded to him. “Hell of a scar you got there,  _ compañero…  _ not to mention....” His eyes flickered down to Shiro’s Galra arm, and Keith tensed, exchanging a glance with Hunk and Pidge. They were so used to it that the highly advanced technology didn’t even cross their minds as an issue.

Shiro (as always) seemed prepared. He smiled, and held it out for Miguel, who almost eagerly grabbed it to inspect it, eyes lit up like a child with a new toy… which was funny, considering he couldn’t have been much younger than Shiro, if not the same age.

“It’s more flashy than anything… it’s a very normal prosthetic, just with a bit more metal work.” Shiro was saying, quickly covering their asses with a smoothness Keith only wished he could achieve.

He heard footsteps behind him, and Cedro reappeared, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips.  _ “Aleja va a estar aquí pronto, ella solo nos está volviendo hacia el puerto.”  _ He told Miguel, his fingers playing with a cheap lighter down by his hip.

Miguel frowned, letting go of Shiro’s arm and marching past Hunk to the shorter man.  _ “Saca esa cosa de tu boca.”  _ He muttered, too fast for Keith to understand a word.

_ “Ni siquiera está encendido!” _

_ “Dios, eres peor que Angelo.”  _ Miguel rolled his eyes, then smiled at the group. “You all relax for a minute, I’m going to check on something. Cedro,  _ vamos, hermano.”  _ He said, dragging Cedro along with him by the arm.

The team looked at each other, finally alone and slightly dumbfounded. Hunk looked the least shocked- he may have even looked a little amused, actually.

Keith looked to the tallest Paladin, eyebrow quirked. “You said they were friendly, but come on.” He said, his voice lowered in case their “saviours” could still hear them. “They barely even believed us! We could be anyone! We could be, like, spies or-”

“Cuba is no longer a major target, remember?” Hunk said. He wandered over to the edge of the boat, and looked out over the railing. “They’re still involved overseas, but after the D.A. pulled out, Cuba itself has been pretty much left alone.” He explained as the others joined him at the salt-sticky railing.

“So they’re not even careful about who comes in and out?” Pidge asked incredulously. “That seems a little reckless.”

Hunk shrugged. “I guess as long as it’s not an army they can handle it… it’s not like they have anything to hide, or any secret weapons.” He murmured.

Shiro smiled a little, but it was tight lipped. “Well, they have Lance… if the Blue Lion needed to, she’d come down and get him herself… that could make Cuba a target again, if she showed up on radar.”

The wind whipped at Keith’s hair. He scoffed. “Don’t tell Lance that when we see him.” He muttered under his breath. Shiro’s eyes flickered to him, though, and Keith prepared himself to explain.

_ “Dios mío, mírate a todos!” _

The female voice made them turn, and Keith almost breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully Shiro would forget… probably not though.

She was tall, probably 5’9’’, with dark tan skin and brown eyes. Half of her head was shaved down to a few centimetres, while the other half was a full foot and a half of thick, wavy, almost black hair.

She grinned at them.  _ “ _ _ Definitivamente soldados, no puedes engañarme.  _ Welcome to Cuba,  _ compañeros!  _ What are you all here for?” She asked in almost perfectly accented english… it reminded Keith of Lance, when he was being a little less careful with his pronunciation.

She came up to them and clapped Keith on the shoulder, making him jump a little in surprise. He blinked. Maybe more like Lance than he originally thought, this woman could have easily been his older sister, if her skin were a bit lighter.

“The big guy here doesn’t need it, but the rest of you will need this-” The woman pulled a bottle out of the tool belt around her waist, frowned at it, then put it back. “Not the varnish, this;” She held out a different squeeze bottle- it just looked like generic sunscreen. What Keith would have done for that on many of the planets they visited… they had found out quickly that Alteans didn’t burn nearly as quickly in the sunlight.

Pidge gratefully took the bottle, immediately putting a generous amount on her face and exposed arms, before handing the bottle to Hunk to get her neck and upper back.

“My name’s Aleja, I’m the  _ capitán.”  _ The woman -Aleja- explained, sticking her hand out to Keith in greeting. He shook it, and he saw her eyeing the tough, black gauntlets, but apparently she had enough a filter not to ask. “I’m good with names, but I don’t know who’s who… I can guess you’re Hunk-” She smiled at the Yellow Paladin, then turned to Shiro. “And I don’t like to assume, but I’m guessing a name like ‘Takashi’ belongs to you.” She said.

Shiro shrugged, not looked offended- he didn’t tend to be about that sort of thing. “Right so far. This is Keith, and she’s Katie.” He finished for her, even though it was probably obvious from there.

Aleja nodded, placing her ragged hands on her somewhat narrow hips. “So… you’re here to find an old friend?” She asked. “Another comrade?”

Keith nodded before anyone else could drag this out any longer. “Yeah. His name is Lance, Lance McClain- he’s another soldier, if that helps at all.” He said quickly.

The sun seemed to grow hotter, uncomfortably warm as Aleja scrunched up her lip in thought. She hummed, eyebrows drawn together. “There are a lot of soldiers in Cuba, former or otherwise, so trying to narrow the group down to that won’t do you any good.” She sighed. “And I don’t know any ‘Lance’, so I can’t help you there, sorry.” She fiddled with the clasp on her tool belt, as if itching to be doing something physical. “Are you sure he’s in Varadero?” She checked.

Hunk nodded, “He lives there, he wouldn’t leave it for the world.” The entire group decided collectively to not react to the irony of the statement.

Aleja nodded slowly in response to this. “...well…” She started. “I would ask around the docks- there are a couple in Varadero, and the soldiers tend to take jobs there for the physical work, unless they’re badly handicapped…” She eyed Shiro’s arm, and Pidge stepped up.

“No, he’s got all his limbs, I think he’s just missing a piece of his brain.” She quipped to no one in particular. Keith pinched his lips together, but he didn’t say anything.

Lance wasn’t stupid. He was just homesick.

Despite what Keith (and most likely Hunk, given the way he was looking out over the sea, his jaw set) thought, Aleja laughed and patted Pidge’s shoulder- it looked incredibly pale in contrast to Aleja’s hand. “Well, that’s not gonna help me pick him out of a crowd, but thanks for the laugh.” She stepped backwards towards where the wheel probably was and smiled. “Well, that’s my advice; search the docks, then if you know his address, go there. Varadero isn’t huge, I’m sure you’ll find him.” She gave them a thumbs up. “I have to get back, but we’ll be arriving at the docks in about 14 minutes.”

Shiro frowned. “Are you sure you want to just bring us back?” He asked. Keith turned to him, wide eyed-  _ ‘What the hell, Shiro?’ _

Aleja waved him off. “We were heading back to port for a while anyway- early fishing day, we’ve gotta bring the catch back to the market. So don’t worry about it. Riel needs to get back as well, I think he has a date later!” She yelled out over her shoulder, grinning.

_ “ _ _ ¡No hay cita! ¡ Necesito hablar con Angelo porque necesito devolver algo!”  _ A voice from the other side of the boat called.

_ “Estaba hablando de Jadzia, pero está bien, si es Angelo-”  _ Aleja continued, waving to the (incredibly lost) group, before disappearing around the other side of the ship.

The team looked at each other for a moment. “So…” Pidge murmured, breaking the ice. “I guess we wait?”

Shiro made an ‘I don’t know’ sound, and Hunk muttered something in agreement. Keith said nothing, finding his mind start to drift once again, and instead moved to the railing again, leaning against the rusty, greenish metal and looking down into the water- deep, a dark teal blue, cut through but the waves the fishing vessel created as it glided across the surface towards the mainland. He sighed, squinting against the harsh sunlight as he looked towards the horizon- nothing but ocean, as far as he could see.

He heard footsteps, and he looked down again as Shiro joined him at the railing.

“You okay, Keith?” He asked quietly.

Keith made no move to look at his older brother. “Yeah. I’m fine.” He sighed again, and Shiro took in a deep breath- probably enjoying the fresh air as much as he could before they were back on the CastleShip.

“So… what was that earlier?” Keith tensed, but didn’t respond. “About Lance.” Shiro offered, as if Keith didn’t know what he was referring to.

Keith chewed at his lip, then dropped his head in defeat. “It was nothing important.” He lied.

Shiro’s eyes bored into Keith’s temple; Keith could feel it. “It sounded important.” He pressed.

Keith’s fingers tapped against the rail, and he shook his head. “...Let’s get Lance back- then I’ll talk with you. I promise.” He added, already hearing the protest forming in Shiro’s head.

Shiro paused, then exhaled slowly. “...Alright. I guess you’re right; one thing at a time.”

Keith stared into the water, wishing he could somehow just  _ know  _ where Lance was.

_ One thing at a time. _

_ ‘Right.’  _ His mind seemed to laugh at him.

_ ‘Easier said than done.’ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeesh, there's a lot of Spanish in this chapter, but here we go.... (I'm using the Collins translator, if someone has a better translation, let me know! I want to be as accurate as possible!)  
> Buenas días, señores- Good morning, "sirs" (kind of, it's not really that formal, haha)  
> Buenas tardes, compañero… un poco cansado, sí- good afternoon, "friend", a little tired, yeah?  
> y perdimos nuestro bote en el mar… no lo anclamos bien- and we lost our boat in the sea- we didn't anchor it well  
> Todos ustedes parecen soldados para nosotros.. oh, no se preocupen!- you all seem like soldiers to us- don't worry  
> Si los consigues cómodo en cubierta, voy a dejar que Aleja sepa que tenemos compañía- If you get them comfortable on deck, I'm going to tell Aleja that we have company  
> Aleja va a estar aquí pronto, ella solo nos está volviendo hacia el puerto- Aleja is going to be here soon, she just had to turn us toward the port  
> Saca esa cosa de tu boca- Get that thing out of your mouth  
> Ni siquiera está encendido- It's not even lit  
> Dios, eres peor que Angelo- God, you're worse than Angelo  
> Dios mío, mírate a todos- my God, look at you all  
> Definitivamente soldados, no puedes engañarme- Definitely soldiers, you can't fool me  
> No hay cita! ¡ Necesito hablar con Angelo porque necesito devolver algo- There is no date! I need to talk with Angelo because I need to return something  
> Estaba hablando de Jadzia, pero está bien, si es Angelo- I was talking about Jadzia, but okay, if it's Angelo
> 
> Jesus Christ- tell me in the comments if I need to keep doing this, 'cause there's gonna be a lot of Spanish in the coming chapters... is it alright from now on if I can just tell you all the jist of what they're talking about? That would be helpful, lol  
> Yeet, season 7 was incredible, I don't care what people say! It made me cry more than once, the art was insanely beautiful, and just... wow  
> Also HA! I was right, a war totally happened! I don't know if I should feel good about that, but y'know.  
> Anyways, I got a new computer! It's got a much better keyboard, so I'm able to much more easily and quickly transcribe my stuff! I'm still busy with school and rehearsals and college stuff and my mental health, haha, but I think the updates will be coming more quickly. Sorry for the long wait. I hope this makes up for it!  
> I think the next one will also be from Keith's point of view, to balance it out, then it'll be pretty much back to the normal back and forth.  
> Hope you all are well!  
> Love ya!  
> (Oh, yeah, also! This chapter marks over 138 handwritten pages of notebook! Whoo!)  
> Insta- @kritt.sha


	18. La Duda

“Sorry, _compañero,_ I don’t know a ‘Lance’, and I know everyone here.” The tall man they had approached after 40 minutes of asking around the docks shrugged apologetically. “Could you give me a description, maybe?” He suggested, shifting the coil of heavy rope he carried higher onto his shoulder.

Irritation roiled away under Keith’s skin- he was hot, antsy, and frustrated- he wasn’t _entirely_ sure how he felt about being home (Earth, that is), and even if he were the type to be elated about returning, they were pressed for time, and this was no vacation. They had to find Lance, get him back to Blue, and then it was back on the grind.

And honestly, the only thing Keith had on Earth _was_ Lance- he was one of his only friends, his _best_ friend, if nothing else.

Hunk’s voice brought Keith back to the present as the younger Paladin immediately began to describe their teammate. “He’s tall and sort of thin- light brown skin and hair, and he’s got dark blue eyes.” He supplied quickly, apparently as anxious to find Lance as Keith was.

The man’s face lit up in recognition. “Well, I don’t know about a ‘Lance’, but Angel, Ramon, and Enrique all have blue eyes.” He paused, eyeing them for a moment. “Are you soldiers?” He asked, his voice dropping a bit. “Because Angel’s got a lotta scars, and he says they’re from fishing incidents, but I’ll be damned if they weren’t battle wounds.” He muttered.

The team exchanged a glance, then Shiro stepped forward. “Does… _Angel_ have burn scars on his back?” He asked. Keith stood, tense, his arms crossed over his chest, apprehensive. Hunk fidgeted and Pidge’s eyebrows were furrowed.

The man snapped his fingers. “He’s your man.” He replied with a small grin.

Pidge looked at the man from behind Hunk. “Where can we find him?” She asked, sounding eager. Keith’s arms slowly unfolded, his heart beginning to pick up its pace. _‘So close, so close…’_

The man shrugged, frowning as he looked around the busy docks. “I’m not sure- a friend called in for him, I think he’s sick,” He hummed. “He never misses more than a day, though, so he’ll probably be here tomorrow.” He turned back to them. “If you really need to see him today, you might ask Decarlos- his friend, he works at the Duarte diner, just down the road.” He said helpfully.

Shiro smiled and shook his hand. “I think we can wait until he’s better, but thanks for your help, sir.” Keith shot Shiro a wide eyed glare. The man shook his head with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Have a nice day.” Shiro added. With that, he turned and started to make his way back down the pier, leaving the rest of the group to quickly thank the (slightly amused, Keith wondered what that look was about) man and hurry after him.

“Hey, whoa, Shiro! A little gung-ho there, aren’t we?” Pidge yelped, scrambling to catch up to the taller man. Keith followed Hunk silently, wondering what their next move would be, and curious about Shiro’s odd behaviour… he hoped that it wasn’t PTSD, but being around so many people who had been through a lot of similar things probably wasn’t doing wonders for his psyche.

Shiro paused, took a deep breath, nodded, then turned around. “...sorry, guys, I’m a little…” He made a vague motion with his hands. He sighed. “...I’m a little _tired-_ I think we all are. How about we head back to the... hotel? We can get a few more hours of sleep before we start up our search?” He finished, seeming to calm down a bit.

Keith’s fingers clenched, but he kept his mouth shut. Shiro was right, they needed to rest, sure, but he didn’t want to _wait,_ he wanted to _move,_ he wanted to find Lance, to catch him and-

 _‘And then what?’_ Keith thought with a flash of panic. His wrists itched. _‘Then what?’_

Hunk unwittingly saved Keith from having to answer his own daunting question by interjecting. “I say our best action would be to go to Lance’s house- even if he’s not living there, he definitely would have gone there first thing.” He said. “His mom knows me- she’ll tell me where he is.” He added with a tone of confidence.

Shiro nodded. “Lance’s house it is, then; I say we go tomorrow,  after we’ve had an _actual, decent_ sleep.” Keith noticed Shiro’s gaze lingering on him, and he realized he hadn’t spoken in a good while. He nodded to show he was listening, and Shiro went on. “So… does anyone know where it is?”

Hunk frowned. “I wish I did, but I’ve never actually… _been_ there… we were on a Garrison holiday vacation when I met her, and we were staying at his brother’s place in Havana…” Hunk smiled at something Keith couldn’t see, then shook his head. “Anyways. I don’t know- we could ask around for the McClain-Àlvarez residence, I guess.”

 _‘Àlvarez?’_ Keith cast his eyes to his boots. _‘Guess that makes more sense than just McClain… god, there’s so much I don’t know about him…’_

“Actually, we don’t have to do any of that.” Pidge reached into the pocket of her cargo shorts and pulled out a slip of old, wrinkled paper. She smiled. “It’s Lance’s address- Coran gave it to me.” She explained.

Hunk took the paper and looked at it. “Coran, Coran you _gorgeous_ man! I’m so glad! I don’t want to interact with any more strangers- the idea that someone will recognize us and call the Garrison is giving me heart palpitations.” He was joking, but it _was_ a real concern… the Garrison finding out they were on Earth, that is- maybe not the heart palpitations.

Keith watched as some of the tension left Shiro’s shoulders. He figured that having a set plan made things a little easier for the sometimes scattered thoughts that came with the mild panic. Keith was almost twitching with the urge to just get the whole thing over with, or at least to _find_ him, but he sort of understood Shiro’s thinking.

“-Keith? You listening, buddy?”

Keith looked up at Hunk, then nodded. Damn, he hadn’t even heard them keep talking… maybe he really _did_ need more sleep.

“Shiro asked if that was alright with you.” Pidge repeated for him, hands deep in her pockets.

Keith’s eyes snapped to Shiro, and he met his gaze head on; worry. He wanted Keith to interact or be verbal or _something_ he supposed- well maybe he didn’t _want_ to at the moment-

_‘Stop thinking like that, he’s just worried about you.’_

“Yeah, sounds good to me.”

_‘Seems like that’s all you’re good for- worrying people.’_

Keith suppressed the desire to rub at his wrists, and silently told his brain to shut its fucking trap. He didn’t have time to spiral again- he had a job to do… and he was _not_ going to be a wreck when they found Lance.

.

.

.

Calling the building a “hotel” might have been a _bit_ of an overstatement.

Before WWIII, it _had_ been a resort hotel, but following the bombings, it had been reduced to a partially reconstructed lodging place for those who couldn’t afford even cheap housing- so, naturally (because they had literally _zero_ dollars, especially not in _pesos),_ their new acquaintances Aleja and Miguel set them up at the rundown “management” (affectionately named _‘la bomba’_ after several devolutions from its original nickname, ‘ _la bombardeado’,_ according to an excited rant Lance had gone on about a year before he left).

Soon they were “settling in” for what Keith guessed was _not_ going to be a very rewarding sleep. No one said (or even wanted to) anything, eyes tired and feeling worn as they rolled out the moth eaten bedrolls the “owner” (no one really owned the building , but he tended to the occupants).

With the hot air coming through the almost entirely open seaside wall, Keith almost felt like he was back in his old shack, in Arizona…except, the air in the desert was dry, not this humid, tropical heat. He lay uncomfortably on his bedroll and watched the sky lose its colour as the others drifted off into their fitful sleeps. The air cooled, and the stars began to wink at him, as if they knew something he didn’t. He felt a pull in his chest, and he rolled over to face the door. He wanted to go back, as soon as possible. The only thing he had here on Earth were sad memories and his missing friend.

“Are you thinking about tomorrow?” A soft voice spoke from behind the top of Keith’s head.

Keith exhaled quietly and shifted on his “bed” to better see Hunk’s silhouette. The hushed breathing of their two sleeping teammates was hanging, suspended in the thick air. He sighed. “Yeah.” _‘No.’_ “Just  a little worried about how it’s gonna go.” At least that wasn’t a lie. Nonetheless, his heart rate picked up as he thought about his friend. “I just- what if he’s not okay? What if he’s- what if he’s like, chronically injured or we this ‘Angel’ guy is the wrong person and he’s actually-”

Hunk chuckled. “Relax, Keith- this is Lance we’re talking about. He takes good care of himself.” He assured Keith. “Besides- Blue wouldn’t have told us to get him if he weren’t okay. I’m sure he’s fine.” Hunk added.

Keith huffed. “Yeah, you’re right.” He said, muscles losing a bit of their tension. Hunk was right. Lance may be a little bit reckless at the worst of times, but for the most part he was pretty thoughtful, and… yeah, with his skin routine? There was no way he wasn’t taking _overly_ good care of himself. No way…

Silence. Keith’s eyelids felt heavy. “...I’m gonna try and get some sleep.” His eyes flickered to his friend’s figure. “You should too- you’re probably gonna have to translate a _lot_ tomorrow.” He murmured.

Hunk hummed in agreement. “Yeah...yeah, you’re right… alright. Night, Keith.” He said, voice quiet and hesitant, almost.

“Night, Hunk.” Keith responded, rolling back to face the wall. He started drifting off, thoughts shifting and fading. There were soft sounds of talking all around him, muffled by the walls, coming from downstairs, the beach…

He rolled over again, restless, some ten minutes later to look at the night sky, only to see Hunk sitting by the view, gazing out at the ocean, backlit by the moon. His shoulders were hunched in, head down, hands moving, wringing at his fingers without pause.

Looking like a perfect picture of doubt.

.

.

.

Keith didn’t mention the scene to Hunk when they finally awoke.

.

.

.

Keith wasn’t sure how it was possible, but he swore that it was even _hotter_ than the day before. He had to take his jacket off and drape it over the crook of his elbow as they searched for a bus that would take them to the carefully scrawled address.

Figures; with their luck, the only “bus” they would find (that was also free) was a rusted pickup with an equipment trailer hitched to the back, the kind of thing for tractors and whatnot… expect it was loaded with people and could only take them to the edge of the town. So Keith found himself sitting beside a young girl who asked him something he couldn’t understand. He looked to Hunk for help.

Hunk grinned. “Just say ‘yes’.” He said.

Keith (not having the heart to tell her ‘no’ after she began playing with his hair) got off the trailer with a thick braid woven into his usual mess of hair. He glowered at Pidge and Hunk’s snickering as they began their walk down the sun baked, cracked road ( _“Joke's on you, Hunk, it keeps the hair off of my neck.”_ He shot back at one point). Shiro just smiled.

Despite the humidity and the heat and the worry he felt, Keith was relieved that he felt relatively… _light_ today, finding it easy to smile and joke with his teammates as they tried to ignore the sun beating down on them. The usual dark and deprecating thoughts had lifted a bit. He supposed it was because they were finally doing something productive.

 _‘We’ll get Lance, then get back to work- everything will be normal again.’_ Keith told himself as he noticed a cop car slow to a stop beside their odd group. He ignored the overbearing discomfort of the thick black arm guards that his his wrists.

 _“_ _¿Adónde se dirigen?”_ The cop asked, sticking his head out the window. He and Hunk had a short exchange, before all four of them managed to sit themselves into the car, Hunk in the front, Keith, Pidge, and Shiro somehow all sitting in the back. Keith wasn’t too thrilled, having spent many collective hours in the backseats of police cars, but he figured it would be a short drive, so he could deal.

Sure enough, around eight minutes later, the car pulled into a large driveway, gravel crunching under the tires. Keith was out quickly, followed by Pidge and Shiro and- at last- Hunk. After a thank you and a short handshake, the car turned around and disappeared down the main road.

Keith felt his anxieties rear their heads. How was this going to go? Were they still living here? What if-

“You guys ready? Angela is so nice, you’ll love her, I promise.” Hunk’s hand fell softly on Keith’s shoulder, grounding him. Keith nodded at Hunk’s subtle glance, and Hunk smiled. Without another word, they stepped up to the door (‘ _Àlvarez’_ Keith noted the mailbox read) and Shiro knocked, the _thuds_ echoing in Keith’s head.

They waited.

Waited.

Then came the footsteps, and the door opened. _“Lo siento, era- Hunk!? ¿Eres tú?!”_

She was shorter than Keith would have expected, barely reaching his shoulders. She had dark brown hair and blue eyes so familiar that it made his heart hurt a little. She looked at their group, wide eyed. “ _-y ustedes-”_ Those blue eyes were swirling with a strange combination of strong emotions- shock, mostly, and she clasped her hands together. _“Dios mÍo…_ okay…” Her English had almost no accent… weird.

Silence. The group stood there, not knowing what to say, until Hunk broke the ice.

“... _Hola, Señora McClain._ ” He murmured.

Angela took another moment. Then she sighed- smiled, and took Hunk’s face in both hands. “... _Hola, Hunk._ ” She bit her lip, then graced the rest of the group with a warm expression. “...I- come in, everyone… you’ll burn out there.” That was all she said before ushering them into the house.

The a/c was a very welcome relief. Pidge muttered some form of gratitude under her breath, checking her reddening arms, before Angela awkwardly hurried them into the kitchen. “...sit, please… I was just making some lunch.” Her voice wavered. “I’m afraid there won’t be a lot, but I-I can make more later on if you’re still hungry.” With that she fell silent, and a tenseness held the air as they sat- silent and looking nervously at each other- at the small table while Angela busied herself around the stove with stiff shoulders.

Despite the cool air, a drop of sweat traced it’s way down Keith’s neck. This was… _not_ how he expected things to go, but it definitely wasn’t going _well,_ as far as he could see. He and Shiro exchanged a glance, and Shiro offered him an almost imperceptible shrug. Keith took a deep breath, shuffled his feet, and was about to try and break the silence, when Angela leaned over his shoulder to set a small bowl of what looked like beans and rice on the table in front of him. Keith twitched in surprise, and Angela placed a gentle hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, _mi alma._ ” She murmured quietly, before she set three more bowls down in front of his teammates. When she wasn’t looking, he tossed Hunk a confused expression and a mouthed _‘what did she call me?”._ Hunk only grinned, then turned to his food.

“Go on.” Angela said, sitting down beside Hunk. “I...I know we have… something to talk about, but… later. You must miss Earth food.” She continued.

That sort of jolted Keith. He blinked. _‘That’s right… we haven’t eaten any Earth food since we arrived.’_ He picked up his fork and took a bite of food he never would have expected to taste so good to him, but-

“Oh my god.” Pidge beat everyone to the punch as they all tasted the first Earth food they’d had in years. Keith even saw Hunk wipe at his eyes, and a smile found its way to his face.

They really were home… kind of.

When they had all finished ( _‘too soon’_ their faces said), Angela folded her hands on the table, and the mood shifted yet again.

“...I have a feeling I know why you’re here.” She lifted her eyes and smiled softly. “Keith, Pidge, Shiro…” She said, glancing at each of them respectfully. She frowned. “There are two of you missing.” She seemed to realize.

“Um… Allura and Coran aren’t with us at the the moment.” Shiro spoke up.

Angela nodded. “Well… it’s a pleasure to finally meet you… I’ve heard a lot about you…” She sighed. “...but I’m guessing you don’t bring happy news.” She laced her fingers together as the group cast their eyes to the table. “Lance said the war wouldn’t be over for years.” Her face hardened as she looked up again. “...you’re here to take him back, no?” Her voice had dropped.

Keith’s stomach sank, and he shrank under her stare. _‘Yeah, this isn’t gonna go smoothly.’_

Shiro sighed. “That-that’s the plan, Mrs. McClain.” A pause. “We need Lance. We need him back.” He explained.

“We need to know where we can find him.” Pidge added quietly.

Keith watched Angela carefully- so did Hunk. He saw the Yellow Paladin’s brow furrow with concern, and Keith wondered what he was picking up on. Nothing good, he supposed.

A tense minute dragged by before Angela even moved. When she did, she inhaled deeply through her nose and closed her eyes. “...okay... okay.” She seemed to be centring herself. She gently tapped the table. Once. Twice. Keith swore he could feel his blood pressure rising. Another sigh. “...I will tell you how to get in contact with Lance under some conditions… first-” Her eyes opened and Keith flinched at the blaze in the otherwise cool blue irises. “You will not force him to go back. He has to decide for himself.”

Keith fidgeted, and finally spoke. “M-Mrs. McClain, we need him-”

Angela slapped a hand over her eyes. “Keith, _mi alma_ , please; Lance needs to decide, this war has-” Her voice broke, and she cleared her throat. A heavy feeling settled over the table. “...second condition; Lance has… probably changed from the person you knew…” Keith noticed the apprehensive faces of his companions, the creeping look of fear in Hunk’s eyes. “...you have to accept him as he is now, for what he’s done, what he’s been through, and what he-” Angela’s breath hitched, and she kept her face covered with her hand. “... and what he may do.” Silence hung over them as Angela sniffled. Hunk reached out and took her hand in an attempt to comfort her. Angela took in a deep breath. “Third condition… please…” She dropped her hand and looked up at the Paladins, her cheeks red and already slicked with tears. _“Por favor… ayuda mi hijo…”_

Keith’s heart fell. They didn’t need a translation to understand what Angela had said. Shiro’s eyes widened, probably already flipping through every scenario of what could have possibly happened to Lance. Pidge’s eyebrows were drawn together in an expression that Keith noticed was usually reserved for complex coding, and Hunk sucked in a quiet breath.

Angela swallowed back more tears and nodded firmly, eyes still swimming, making her point clear.

“Help my son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, I'm not dead!  
> Just insanely busy with school work, sorry.  
> I also just wanted to let you all know that I will be continuing this story after Voltron's final season comes out. I won't just abandon a story like that, I promise. And I'll probably do more content, too! :)  
> Alright, that's all! I hope you enjoy this chapter, there'll be another one soon.  
> <3  
> ...(my insta- @kritt.sha)


End file.
